A Technicality in His Sins
by Gold-Snitcher
Summary: SSHP. vampirefic 4 Privet Dr. is destroyed, and Harry's world is turned upside down. Unable to attend Hogwarts formally, and unable to alter what he has become, Harry is forced to come to terms with his new status but he does not have to do it alone.
1. Prologue: Awakening

Harry Potter awoke with a start.

He drew in a shaky breath and held it, looking around in the darkness and trying to get his bearings. His disorientation was growing into a sense of desperate panic; every muscle in his body was taught and he was wound like a spring. His ears were pricked, listening acutely for something though all he could hear was silence. His eyes were straining to see, though there was only opaque blackness.

Frantically searching for a clue as to where he was, his eyes darted but the darkness was so absolute that he could make out no shapes: nothing but a thick blackness. His breath was coming faster, staccato hiccups that brought little relief; he was trying desperately not to panic, to stay calm, to just think things through.

Slowly, he tried to sit up, but the movement was painful and the space confined. Since he wasn't able to move without twinges of agony he searched his surroundings, groping in the dark to try to make out anything familiar, anything that would tell him where he was.

The only thing he knew was that he was in a small rectangular encasement with barely any room to move about. He settled back again and realized with a start that whether the enclosed space was ridiculously small or not, he was lying on silk and there were silk pillows propping him up. Flashes of thought whipped through his mind and Harry did not like what they implied.

Calming himself, he ran through his last memory.

He had been at the Dursleys' for the summer. It had been night and he had been in his cupboard, which he'd been returned to following Sirius' death, though whether the change had anything to do with that, Harry couldn't be sure. As far as he could tell, there was no reason why his relatives should know about Sirius, but then again Dumbledore liked to write letters to Harry's aunt in an attempt to wrangle himbetter treatment and it was just as possible that the headmaster had divulged the information in the hopes that it might garner Harry some sympathy. If that was the case, it certainly had not worked.

Beyond the vague recollection of the sound of boots and of banging doors, Harry could not remember anything except a blinding light; but then again, any light would be blinding after being locked in the darkness for so long.

He closed his eyes tight and tried to hold in his frantic gasps. Panicking would not do any good. But where was he? He begged and pleaded that he wasn't where he thought he was. A dark swell of fear and desperation flooded him and he let his breath out in a whoosh, pounding against the silk walls of the small space and screaming and begging.

He _knew_ where he was.

The notion terrified him, but he thought that he knew exactly where he was.

"Please! Please! Someone get me out!" he called, sobbing even as he knew that he should be concentrating on conserving oxygen. But did it matter?

"Wake up, wake up wake up!" he ordered, clenching his fists and bringing them up to hide his face. "Wake up, wake up, _wake up_!" he pleaded. It was a dream. A nightmare. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real!

He could hear thumps; the noise was loud and frightening, multiplied a hundred times over and the thumps and bumps and shuffling seemed to be everywhere. There was nowhere that he could curl up and hide. He had no wand. He had no defense. His breath came in short gasps and he began to rock back and forth as he curled in on himself.

"Please, please, wake up, wake up!" he was begging.

A loud thud, and he was shivering and blacking out and hyperventilating and it couldn't be real, _it just couldn't_.

Then he was certain that he had passed out, or died, but the world suddenly became very, very cold, so cold, and he gasped for breath, and there were hands on him, pulling him up, clutching him against something soft but hard and warm, _so warm_. And it was lovely to breathe oxygen. It was lovely to be free of the heat and the silk and the confined space.

He had always been sort of claustrophobic.

"Potter? …Harry, focus!" a voice was ordering him and he knew that voice; he did, he did. He knew the soft warming baritone of it, but he didn't know the tone. The tone was new.

"Harry?" The voice was sharp and he jolted back to himself, blinking in shock and looking into the narrowed, dark eyes of Severus Snape. And that was odd, wasn't it? What was Snape doing in his dream?

"Harry?" Severus asked again. And that was concern in his voice. And when had Harry reached the twilight zone? Because Severus never called him by his first name.

And when had he begun to think of the man as 'Severus'?

Harry pushed the thoughts away. They were too confusing. Too much. He couldn't breathe. There was too much air. Did that make sense? Did anything make sense? Where was he?

"Where?" he managed to ask, in a feeble croaked voice that shocked him. He was still shivering and, he noted in amusement, he was clutching onto his professor's arms, and Severus had his hands on Harry's shoulders and was holding him close. Harry thought vaguely that he should probably sit back because it was awfully intimate. "What?" he asked instead, turning his head to look about him.

It was dark, so dark, but he could see quite well, which didn't make sense because Dudley had sat on his glasses a week ago, just before Harry had been returned to his cupboard after his brief 'airing out' and been forgotten there.

And this was a graveyard, wasn't it?

It was. There were crypts and tombstones and weeping angels everywhere. He shifted in Severus's grasp and noticed that the potions master's legs were dangling down into a hole.

A hole that had a long black box in it.

A coffin.

What was he doing here? What was going on?

Dazedly, Harry managed to pry his eyes away from the open coffin - away from the claw marks and tears in the silk that desperate fingers had made on the lid.

A tombstone. A simple, small onyx tablet.

**R.I.P.**

**Harry Potter**

**1980-1997**

Harry blinked and re-read the tombstone.

It was abrupt and unsentimental.

And it still said his name.

Harry blinked again and turned, stunned, to look at Severus, who was now looking very concerned. Harry opened his mouth to speak, to ask what had happened, how he ended up in his own grave when he wasn't dead, and why Severus was there, but though his throat worked to produce a sound it came out as simply a stunned whimper, and then he promptly passed-out.


	2. The Fledge

**Title: **_A Technicality in His Sins_

**Author:** Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter One:** The Fledge

_-----------------------------_

_Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated._

Mark Twain

-----------------------------

St. Mungo's was usually a busy and chaotic place, but lately there had been an influx of patients suffering from a wide range of ailments, from the usual accidental transfigurations, to patients clearly suffering from exposure to one or several of the Unforgivables. As a result, the main entrance to the hospital was a chaotic mass of surging witches and wizards each trying to shove their way to the front desk where they could thus be directed to the appropriate floor.

Yet, when the dark-haired man wearing black robes and carrying a large bundle swaddled in black cloth, approached the front desk, no one complained or shoved; the appearance of the man suggested quite strongly that he would simply not tolerate such behavior.

Strangely, the people who were waiting in line, and, even the young orderly who was working at the front desk could never remember any specific details, either about the man or his burden or where he had been directed to. All they could recall was that it seemed the right thing, to let him by. Nor was recalling any specifics overly necessary, after all, he was just a man, like any other man, coming to St. Mungo's in need of a medi-witch or wizard's help, just like anything else, there was nothing special about that, was there?

........................

Severus Snape relinquished his hold on Harry Potter with a mixed sense both of relief and reluctance. He himself was still recovering from a sort of shock after the entire ordeal, and he wasn't sure of what to make of it, but, being who he was, he took it in stride.

Once his burden was removed, and the dark over-cloak which Severus had wrapped around the youth pulled away to expose familiar features, though considerably paler than was usual, Severus was faced with the very question that had been plaguing him since he had heard the muffled cries in the graveyard.

"I thought he was dead?" the stunned medi-wizard asked. Severus, unable to offer any explanation, settled for sneering disdainfully at the man. "He was buried?" the man asked and, when he received no answer, set about checking his new patient's vitals. "Shall I contact you with the results? I will have to perform tests."

"Contact Albus Dumbledore, at Hogwarts," Severus snapped before turning on his heel and walking out of the emergency room. He had wasted enough time, as it was, but he had wanted to make sure that Potter received appropriate care, after all, he had been dead only just yesterday; at least, he had been _thought_ to be dead. Somehow Severus didn't think that Poppy Pomfrey would be able to offer the appropriate care for the youth. Still, Albus needed to be notified and they needed to figure-out how such a grave error could have been made. Potter would be safe in St, Mungo's. After all, no one knew of this floor in the building, and the security on it was strict. It was reserved for extreme cases and for people who required discretion, which was something that was essential when dealing with Harry Potter.

...................

"Alive?" Albus Dumbledore repeated. It was unnerving to hear the man sound so surprised and relieved at the news. Shouldn't he have known already? Shouldn't he be sitting there, twinkling merrily as if he had known it all along, and then offer a sweet just to rub it in, that he had known something you didn't?

Of course, Severus was always aware that the man was hardly as omnipotent as he pretended to be, but still, having this so clearly revealed was still unnerving. "Yes," he confirmed, managing to sound unmoved.

"How?" Albus asked, suddenly sounding quite like his usual self, though admittedly a bit sterner.

"I do not know," Severus offered. "I brought him to St. Mungo's. He was, after all, buried alive; I thought medical attention was necessary."

"Very wise of you, Severus. How did you discover him?" Albus asked.

Severus tried not to squirm in his seat. This was where things became difficult. How could he explain that, after grappling with the knowledge that the Wizarding World's boy-hero had been brutally murdered, along with his relatives, by the Dark Lord, Severus had come to a startling realization, and that was that Harry Potter was not James Potter.

At some point during the seemingly obligatory reflection on a life lost, Severus managed to view his encounters with the infuriating Gryffindor with a different eye. He didn't regret his behavior and he certainly wouldn't apologize for it, but, for a fleeting moment, there had been a sense of disappointment that he would be unable to observe Potter with this new understanding, that the boy was indeed his own person.

This bout of sentimentality had led him to the graveyard where the boy had been buried, alongside his relatives, and he had stood there, trying to come to terms with the implications that the death of Harry Potter entailed. This meant the almost certain success of the Dark Lord. Everything that Severus had been fighting so hard to prevent would now come to pass.

He had indulged in a few moments of self-pity and had been preparing to leave when he had heard a faint scuffling. Never had Severus been more thankful that he had such keen senses which he had developed due to his tenuous position as a spy and his work during the first dark war. He had, though, been perfectly prepared to dismiss the scuffling. Until the scuffling had been paired with a dull thump and then, with a very soft and muffled voice calling for help.

Severus had to admit, he had nearly gone mad with the realization that the sound was coming from a grave, and that it was not only any grave but Potter's grave. Severus had always had a deep-seated and perhaps peculiar fear of being buried. In fact, Severus had seen to it that, when he died, he would simply be cremated. The very notion of being enclosed in any small place was distinctly distasteful to him, and so, he completely sympathized with Potter's situation. And he was also aware that he was on the clock. There was only so much oxygen that could be contained in a coffin, and if the stupid boy was using it to scream and panic then what little was left certainly would not last long.

It took several flicks of his wand to displace the earth that separated him from the coffin, and several more to undo the locks, and then he had grabbed the terrified boy and done something that, now, to his rational mind, seemed completely unthinkable; he had embraced the boy, hauled him from the coffin and from the grave, and then, holding him, as he had panicked, and even, after he had passed out. And then, he had felt the need to deliver the comatose youth to St. Mungo's where he could be properly treated.

Now, how to explain that to an irritatingly optimistic headmaster who would undoubtedly misinterpret the motive behind each and every one of his actions and then beam at him in that horrible way he had and proclaim that stoic potions master was 'coming around' or perhaps, 'was growing fond of the boy' which was certainly most untrue.

"I thought perhaps that the Dark Lord would attempt to exhume the body for some dark ritual and considered it prudent to investigate. Upon my arrival I heard noised from Potter's grave and determined that he was alive and trapped. Naturally, I retrieved him and, when it became obvious that he was suffering from extensive shock from the situation, I took him to St. Mungo's where he could be treated." _Shameful_, Severus thought to himself. _Brilliant, but shameful. _

"Naturally," Albus said, stroking his beard, latching on to one of the terms Severus had used and the potions master, once again, attempted not to squirm. Instead, he leveled a glare at the man. "That was wise of you, Severus. This is very good news. Well, when the medi-wizard declares him fit, we shall bring Harry back here until we can come-up with some more suitable arrangements."

Severus sat for a moment, rather startled by the simplicity of it. "Shouldn't someone be monitoring the tests being done on the boy?" Severus asked. "He was, after all, declared dead by both muggle and wizard healers. Isn't that something that should be pursued?" Was the man mad? Leaving the boy alone in the hospital where the staff could do anything?

"I know the medi-waizard you mentioned earlier, his name is Edmund Sparks and he is quite honorable. In fact, I have trusted in his discretion many times myself," Albus offered.

"But how is he alive?" Severus snapped. It seemed like a very important point to him, why didn't Albus find it at all significant.

"Very well, Severus. You may go to St. Mungo's and supervise the care of young Mr. Potter," Albus said with an oddly pleased smile.

_What?_ "What?" Severus asked.

"You expressed concern. I agree," Albus said.

"I most certainly expressed no _concern_, Albus," Severus argued.

"I trust you will relay any significant information to me," Albus said with a smile. Severus, left the office in a huff and a black swirl of robes.

............................

St. Mungo's had five floors, the topmost of this housed the visitor's tearoom and hospital shop. Everyone knew this. And yet, a select number of witches and wizards who, either due to their situation or their identity, or for some other reason perhaps, required an extra amount of security and caution, were also aware that, should they ever require the services of the healers of St. Mungo's, they would most certainly be treated on a the most secret sixth floor, of which very few were aware. So secret was this floor that not even all of the healers who worked at St. Mungo's were aware of it.

On the sixth floor, down a small maze of hallways that lead to a very daunting set of heavy metal doors, a man slipped out of the shadows and followed a young healer passed the thick doors and into the most secure ward on the most secure floor of the most secure hospital.

The man followed silently as the young healer stopped by a portrait of the witch who had provided the funding for this particular wing of this particular floor, and muttered something before stepping into the space which the portrait moved aside to reveal.

The man stood alone in the hallway, watching the portrait with a blank expression. Slowly, he moved forward and, when the woman in the portrait did not acknowledge him, he pressed his ear to the wall. He stayed that way for a moment before he stepped back and snarled.

At that moment a number of healers bustled through the heavy metal doors and rushed towards the portrait, each muttering something to woman in the portrait who acknowledged them and allowed them access to the rooms within.

With a toss of his long, fine blond hair, the man sneered once at the woman, who glanced around at the empty halls, eyes skimming over him and dismissing him as quickly as she did the taupe walls and tile floors, and then he stepped forward and pressed a hand against the painting. The woman in the portrait sucked in a breath, twittered nervously for a moment, fanning her bosom, before she turned to him and smiled broadly.

..............................

Edmund Sparks was a very serious man. He took his job very seriously. He loved helping people, but the people who came into his ward were not in need of simply healing charms or perhaps a quick potion, and Edmund didn't think that, when you were being asked to save a person's life, you should be flippant about it. It was this attitude that had made the board of director's for the hospital approach him and offer him the position on the sixth floor. Edmund had accepted, it added a level of intrigue to his daily work, and he guarded the secrets of his patients with his very life.

When Harry Potter had been brought to his ward, Edmund had known immediately that this patient would require more discretion than any other. He had chosen his team of healers with particular care. He selected the strongest and brightest healers he could trust to keep this most important patient a secret.

They had worked diligently, and things had seemed to go so well at first.

At first.

Then Claire had gone inexplicably into shock. And then Harry Potter had awoken from his coma, obviously agitated and shockingly violent. He had been sedated immediately and moved to the Phyllis Bodely ward, the most secure ward on the sixth floor.

He entered the Bodely ward and, whispering the password to the portrait of Phyllis which guarded the observation room where Harry Potter was being kept, Edmund Sparks joined Maria and Douglas, two of the healers who he had selected to work with him on this patient.

Maria and Douglas were both situated at the table set-up by the two-way mirror. Douglas was monitoring the Spell Box which was responsible for keeping track of the patient's physical and magical state, and Maria was also taken notes, several spelled quills were recording furiously, and she was poring over the data with a meticulous air.

"Is there much change?" Edmund asked as he closed the door behind him. Maria turned in her chair and looked at him with a pained expression and he stepped forward, peering into the room which the mirror reveal.

In the centre of the observation room sat a frail-looking figure, huddled in on himself, fingers tangled in messy black hair, and shivering. Harry Potter had changed drastically since he had been first brought to the hospital three day prior. Even as shaken as the boy had been, having just been pried from his own grave, he had still appeared healthy. Now, the boy looked quite gaunt, and extremely pale. He seemed ridiculously fragile, sitting alone, on the floor of that barren room, wearing pale blue hospital pajamas.

"He hasn't been eating. Douglas brought the food in but the attacks are getting stronger. Even with the occlumency, he couldn't stay long enough to make him eat," Maria said. "I tried to find some –"

A soft his interrupted Maria's update, and the three healers turned their heads to the mirror where a pair of unnaturally bright green eyes were looking straight forward. If it had not been impossible to see through the two-way mirror, Edmund would have said that the boy was making direct eye-contact with him. Another hiss, long and slow, and the pale, slender neck arched as the boy tilted his head to the side.

"He's speaking parseltongue," Edmund muttered. Douglas reached over to check that the notes were recording this latest development. Edmund turned to Douglas, hoping that the man had some input on how to stop the boy's antics, after all, Douglas was the healer in charge of the boy's potions, had he missed a dose? Much to his surprise, Edmund noticed that Douglas had fallen into some kind of trance.

Slowly, wondering what was going on, Edmund reached forward and nudged Maria, relieved when she jerked her head away from the scene playing out in the observation room, and she turned her head, first looking uncertainly at Edmund, and then noticing Douglas' state. "What do we do?" she asked.

The boy let out a soft, obscene moan as he splayed himself on the ground and arched against the caress of an invisible lover. "Pleassse," the boy spoke. Edmund caught himself shivering and dug his nails into the palm of his hand, trying to anchor himself. He noticed Maria's eyes had glazed over.

It was a bizarre moment, and Edmund was unsure of how to proceed. On the one hand, he was unnervingly aroused by the actions of the dark-haired youth, and yet, at the same time, he was acutely aware of his tentative diagnosis and he was most reluctant to succumb to the urges which were permeating his thoughts.

He had already slammed his mental shields up and was desperately trying to hold them as he withdrew his wand, trying to think of a spell to cast, and yet finding it difficult with his every thought going towards not falling into the power of his patient.

The door to the room opened with a loud bang that startled Edmund out of his battle and a tall, slender man clad in indigo robes, with long, blond hair that was tied back, stepped into the room and hastily shut the door.

"Dear Merlin," the man said, and Edmund was surprised by his soft but deep tones, and also relieved, since the man's entrance seemed to have stopped the mind-control which his patient had been attempting to inflict on him. "You haven't been feeding him," the man stated, watching as, within the pale room, Harry caressed his own body and begged for some unknown thing.

"Who are you?" Edmund demanded, turning his wand on the man and preparing to throw a curse. Even if his patient was attempting to invade his mind and was controlling his colleagues, Harry Potter was still to be protected at all costs.

"You ask me that at a moment like this?" The stranger retorted, sounding both exasperated and amused. "That's not important now." With that, he stepped forward threw a quick curse at the thick glass which promptly shattered. Harry stopped his writhing and sat up slowly, a strange and unnerving look in his eyes. Much to Edmund's shock and dismay, Maria rose from her chair and climbed through to the other room.

"What do you think you're doing?" Edmund demanded as the strange man followed her, helping her into the other room. "Maria! Come back!" he ordered.

"Would you rather you be his first?" the man retorted. "It won't hurt her," he added. Edmund kept his eye on the stranger and then focused on Maria, not sure if he should cast a spell. Not knowing who he should protect, Maria or his patient.

It was hypnotic, as the man settled behind Harry Potter, caressing the boy's cheek fondly, and the dark-haired youth purred and sighed, leaning back into the man's caress. It was wrong. It was arousing.

He watched, unable to move, as Maria knelt down in front of Harry Potter, and the stranger shifted, leaving Potter's side and instead, pulling Maria down into his lap, stroking her hair away from her face and shoulders tenderly, exposing her neck. Edmund was panicking. He knew what he had thought Potter to be. Even if the tests had been inconclusive at first. And now, it seemed so very clear. So painfully obvious. And even if he knew he should rush forward and pry his colleague away from those two devils who sat in that room, Edmund could not move his feet. Could not fight the arousal that was growing in him. An arousal which, much to his shame, was not for Maria, but for the dark haired boy, his own patient, who was leaning forward, unusually sharp canines peaking out between slightly parted lips onto to disappear into the exposed flesh of his victim's neck.

Much to Edmund's surprise, Maria showed no displeasure. In fact, she seemed to quite enjoy the experience. Edmund had encountered vampires before. They were considered outcasts in wizarding society, but still, in his line of work, there was always the opportunity to meet strange and dark creatures. He had never been overly fascinated with them and knew little about their lifestyle or, indeed, any real facts beyond what he had learned in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class when he was still in school, and that had been very little as his professor had been more than a little unnerved about the entire subject and vowed to keep the discussion of that 'horrid topic' brief.

Still, from what little he did know, Edmund had believed that the entire 'feeding' experience was painful. Nothing about having a pair of teeth biting into one's neck seemed to hint at possible pleasure, but still, Maria was quite clearly enjoying herself.

Finally, after an agonizing moment of internal conflict and fascination and arousal, Edmund watched as Harry Potter pulled back and licked his lips. He hadn't spilled a drop, and Edmund felt oddly relieved that he didn't have to see evidence of the boy's 'meal', even if he had borne witness to it.

"Better?" the stranger asked. Harry sat back on his haunches and frowned.

"I should have come earlier," the man sighed. "I had no idea they would attempt to starve you. It is such an archaic practice; I hardly believed there would be a wizard here at St. Mungo's who would still support it. I apologize," the man offered.

Edmund wanted to yell at the man. Wanted to explain that he had been entrusted with Potter's care, and that he simply could not tolerate the idea of returning the boy, who was supposed to be their hero, to Albus Dumbledore and explaining what the boy was. And he hadn't been sure, not entirely. And he had wanted to be completely sure! And he hadn't been intentionally starving the boy, he had Douglas bring food into the room at appropriate times. It was a legitimate practice that he had heard succeeded once, long ago. Keeping the fledge isolated and treating it like a normal creature, not supporting any of its unnatural habits, and then the fledge simply wouldn't develop them.

"Ah, I apologize," the man offered as he shifted the woman from his lap and rose to his feet, and then offered a hand to help Potter up. They both ignored Edmund. "My name is Gaedrian Prekatri Llyr, but you, my little fledge, will call me Gaedrian."

"I remember you," Harry admitted after a moment. Edmund was surprised, he had not heard his patient speak at all, but the voice was soft and there was no sign of a constricted throat or any indication of the natural effects that enforced silence usually had. And it was also a surprise to hear it without the lust that had been so prominent in it when he had first spoke, just minute earlier.

"As well you should," the man, Gaedrian offered. "Come, we should go. It is unsafe for us here, we're not very popular," he explained. Potter seemed nervous, Edmund noted, and the man seemed to see this as well because he smile and extended a hand. "You are my fledge, and there is much I must show you. Come with me." And it was that simple. Potter nodded. And even if Edmund was trying to scream at his patient not to be so foolhardy, that he could be cured that there _must_ be a way, Potter followed the tall stranger out of the observation room and, before he let the door closed behind him, the boy even looked, once, straight at Edmund, and that was a strange sensation, wasn't it? Arousal, so strong that it seemed impossible, and pain, and his senses overloaded, and he collapsed.

...................................................

Three days after recovering Harry from the graveyard, Severus Snape entered St. Mungo's topmost floor and strode directly to the large ward at the end of a long taupe hallway. This was where he had been told Potter was being kept and, though it had taken convincing, both he and Albus Dumbledore had been able to persuade the team of healers who were working on helping Harry, into allowing Severus' presence not only near the boy, but also at the tests.

He knocked twice and waited, but there was no response. Again he knocked, feeling impatient and growing irritable. When he received no response again, Severus opened the door.

The room was small and dimly lit. There wasn't much in it, chairs and a large work desk. The wall where the desk was set-up was equipped with a large window that showed the inside of another room.

Except the window was smashed, and on the floor of the room were two sprawled bodies, one of which Severus recognized as the healer who he had entrusted Potter to three days ago.

He bent and checked for a pulse for both wizards and found one. He contemplated waking one or both, but his priority was Potter, and so he rose to his feet.

Beyond the smashed window was a very plain room; cold tile floor, pale walls. Void of furniture except for a single small bed with white sheets that was bolted down to the floor in a corner.

In the centre of the room lay another healer, this one a woman. There was no sign of Potter.

Severus started forward, intent on checking on the other healer when he was distracted by a sheaf of papers on the work table. Glancing up at the body of the woman, he looked at her closely and, when he noticed her chest rise and fall, he looked down at the papers.

Most of the notes were general accounts on Potter's health. Potter had been suffering from shock, some minor injuries and bruising. He had been treated successfully and left to recover in a private room. A full check on his general health had been performed and was normal. They went on to outline charts on his heartrate and such, which did not interest Severus.

One outlined a bizarre incident that was recorded hastily, like a side-note, in the margin of the notes. Apparently, an orderly who had been responsible for bringing breakfast to Potter had gone into shock. She had been treated but would not speak, there had been nothing wrong with her besides obvious distress, and no one had connected the incident to Potter until the lunch trays were brought around and it was discovered that he had been locked in, and that he was – altered. He was violent. The response was to sedate him and have him moved to a more secure ward.

Beyond that, he had been under observation and nothing was conclusive. Shuffling through the notes, Severus found a sheet which was recorded in a slightly more messy hand.

_Patient demonstrates advanced ability with mind-control_, was written near the top after a general list of concerns, such as that the patient was showing signs of weakness and malnutrition, though he was brought three meals a day.

_Despite results of original general health test, it is suspected that the patient may, in fact, be a vampire._

Severus let out a long and slow breath. He had thought of this possibility. The certainty of the healers who had pronounced the boy dead had been such that it seemed quite beyond hope that the pronouncement had been inaccurate.

Now, Severus was confronted with several problems. With a firm resolve, Severus withdrew his wand and destroyed the papers, and the Spell Box that sat on the work table. When this was done, he cast memory charms on the healers within the room and then, out of curiosity, he entered the observation room and turned the woman onto her back. Two small puncture marks marred her neck, and yet she was alive and well. Severus cast a small healing spell and the marks disappeared.

In an ominous swirl of robes, Severus Snape exited the St. Mungo's and returned to Hogwarts. He had much to report to Albus Dumbledore. There were still, undoubtedly, more files on Harry Potter held in St. Mungo's which would have to be destroyed, and likely several more healers who would have to be obliviated, but that would be done by someone else.

And there was still the boy himself. He and the vampire who had changed him, for surely he or she had come to claim their fledge by now, would have to be found and returned to Hogwarts where they could be properly protected.

The first thing Severus noticed when he entered the headmaster's office was the rather striking man who stood by the fire. The second was the slumbering form of Harry Potter, curled on a couch by the fire.

"Welcome, Severus," Albus Dumbledore greeted, though it was not in his usual flippant manner.

"I suppose you are responsible for the mess I encountered at St. Mungo's," Severus could not help but sneer.

"I was. Nor do I regret it. I would have liked to have done more to the people who had the audacity to starve my fledge," the man retorted.

"Gentlemen," Albus said, but Severus was struck by that comment.

"Starved him?" he asked, trying to sound unconcerned. He glanced back at the sleeping figure of Harry Potter, looking vulnerable and lost and so very pale.

"It seems that the _healer_," the man emphasized with distaste, "saw fit to purify the vampire from him."

"That would explain the woman going into shock," Severus murmured to himself as he pieced the information together. A fledge needed to feed as soon as he awoke from the change, but Harry had awoken in a grave, and when he had been removed, he had gone into severe shock. When he had awoken from that, the thirst had likely escalated, hence the notes on violence, Potter had likely been fighting the thirst, not understanding what was happening, and his response to the internal struggle must have made the orderly who had come bearing breakfast respond as she did.

"Gentlemen, if you please," Albus recalled their attention, and Severus stepped forward into the room, standing at one of the couch where Harry was sprawled. "Severus, is this new information secure?"

"I obliviated the healers in the room and destroyed the papers I found there, but there are likely others on the team, and papers in one or all of their offices."

"I shall send someone to deal with them. I am very happy you returned Mr. Potter to us, Mr. Llyr."

"I am sure you understand that I am not simply leaving him here," Gaedrian stated. "As my fledge he is my responsibility, and until he has adjusted to this change, in every way, then I cannot leave."

"I am aware of this, and I am happy to arrange rooms for you both. The dungeons would be most suitable, don't you think?" Albus said with a quirked eyebrow. Severus snorted to himself, though whether it was because of Albus' joke on the fact that there was less light in the dungeons and thus it was suitable for the vampires, or whether it was because Albus had found a way, once again, to disrupt his life, he was not quite sure. "I would appreciate it, Mr. Llyr, if you were to explain the events which caused you to turn our Mr. Potter."

Severus looked at the man closely. It was obvious that the tall vampire disapproved of Albus' insistence on referring to Harry as being 'theirs'. There was a strange protectiveness which Severus had not seen often between a vampire and its fledge. True, Severus had not had vast experience with vampires, but he had more experience than most wizards, and he was struck with a strange feeling whenever he saw the man look at the sleeping boy with that fond expression. Severus could not quite interpret what it was he was feeling, though, and so he dismissed it.

"I am sure you are aware of the Gift?" Llyr said. "It manifests itself in a different way for each of us. For me, I glimpses of the future." Severus attempted very hard not to snort. "I received a vision of the attack on Harry's home. I set out to try to stop it, but by the time I had arrived, the Death Eaters had killed the muggles and were torturing Harry. There was no other choice, for the boy to live he had to be turned, something which I gladly did. It seemed prudent to have him officially acknowledged as deceased, I did not want the added chaos that would have ensued if I had taken him. Bogus reports on the Dark lord's capture of him or something of the such. I had intended to reclaim him before he was even taken to a morgue, but your minister for magic works quite quickly, and the aurors surrounding Harry made it quite impossible for me to reclaim him. And then he was buried. When I arrived at his grave, it had already been emptied and when I tracked him down, he was in St. Mungo's."

"Why have you brought him here," Albus asked, and somehow managed not to make it sound rude or uncaring.

"I am aware of his responsibilities and his attachments. I thought it best that he be someplace he knows, at least for the beginning of the adjustment. The protection here would be quite useful as well. I understand that he can't be schooled here, naturally I will remove him before the start of term."

Severus eyed the man with a calm look. It was a horrid turn of events on so many levels. The boy was already different enough, isolated enough, and now this? It would open him to more persecution, now, not only would the Dark Lord hate him, but the majority of the wizarding population as well. In Severus' opinion, the list of reasons for Harry Potter to succumb to dark magic was growing far too quickly, and the list of reasons to stay loyal to the Order were decreasing. He might not know Harry Potter well, but he knew that Hogwarts was the boy's home, remove that from him, and where could the boy go? Severus felt a growing respect for the man, Llyr, for noticing all this about his fledge so quickly.

"You are quite right," Albus sighed. "Loathe as I am to admit it, the prejudice against vampires is such that it would be impossible for Harry to attend classes as a usual student, even if there were a way to make him bear daylight. The outcry would be far too strong. However," Albus said, and he popped a yellow candy into his mouth and sucked on it thoughtfully. "I am not opposed to continue to offer the both of you rooms here, and protection. And I am certain that there are members of the faculty who would have nothing against teaching him."

Severus caught Albus' meaning, and returned the rather pointed look. With a sigh, Severus nodded. "I would be willing, Albus, to teach the boy," Severus admitted, to which Albus smiled happily.

"Wonderful. Well, there's still plenty of time to iron out the small details," Albus said. "Mr. Llyr, I'm sure you and Harry would like to settle into your rooms, I'll have one of the house elves show you your way. While you are here, feel free to use the grounds and, indeed, the forest, as you so choose," Albus said, and the man nodded, already leaning over and taking Harry into his arms.

"If this meeting is done, headmaster, then I will return to my rooms," Severus said, turning away from where the man was cradling Potter.

"Yes, of course, Severus. Thank-you very much for your help, I shall see that the information is cleared from St. Mungo's." Severus nodded and left the office, hurrying down the stairs and, in a swoop of robes, turned towards his dungeons, his thoughts running through the difficulties which would likely arise in the coming year, and how they could possibly be controlled or, if possible, averted.

As he entered his chambers, the first thought that came to his mind was that if Potter was a vampire, and vampires could not bear the light, then the boy had a weakness which could very easily be exploited by the Dark Lord.

And that, in itself was an interesting theory wasn't it? What exactly was it that made a vampire unable to endure the light? With a frown, Severus picked-out a text from his shelves that could shed some light on his question or perhaps a solution to the problem, and, flipping the text open to an appropriate page, he set to work.

---------------------------------

TBC

This chapter was the real set-up. I'm sorry it was a bit slow and boring. Things will pick-up, I promise. Please don't worry about my new character, Gaedrian, I hope he doesn't offend and/or irk anyone, I hate new characters when they become the centre of attention or stuff like that, and I'm not intending to use him like that. Bear with me.

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!!!


	3. The Ripped Cocoon

**Title:** _A Technicality in His Sins_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Two:** The Ripped Cocoon

_White world pushed open –_

_And comfort that has been is changed_

_For different comfort._

_Rise damaged, proud:_

_To live I wear my choices on the wind._

"Split in the Round", Robin Blackburn

When Harry blinked his eyes open he was rather unsurprised to see that it was dusk.

For a moment he found that odd. He had become quite accustomed to waking up quite early in the morning; it was a habit that living with the Dursleys and being responsible for their breakfast had ingrained in him at quite an early age. To awake now and have it be dusk was quite a new experience, especially since he was certain it had been night when he had succumbed to sleep.

He shifted and, with a hint of trepidation, pulled himself up in bed, relieved to find that he was not injured, and no part of his body felt particularly achy.

He realized, with some surprise, that he was in Hogwarts, the comforting curl of familiar magic around his senses felt like a warm embrace. So, he was on a soft bed, in a large room that was clearly not a dormitory, in Hogwarts. It was odd to discover that this, too, seemed unsurprising to him.

He sat for a moment, pondering how he had gotten from St. Mungo's to Hogwarts, and why he was not at all surprised to find that he had when the door to his room opened and a striking man walked through the door. His long, dark blond hair was tied back and he wore deep purple robes.

"I was wondering when you would wake," the man said, by way of greeting.

Harry examined the knot of emotions within himself and realized that, though he felt conflicted towards the man, there was a strange compulsion to trust him. After a moment of confusion, Harry's memory came back to him. "You," he said, and the man smiled wryly.

"Me," he confirmed. "I feel that much of the things I might have had to explain to you have already been taken care of while you were at St. Mungo's," the man said. Harry was relieved when he made no move to approach the bed, simply stepped over to the fireplace where a fire was burning comfortingly.

"I know what I am," Harry confirmed. "And I know that you made me."

"Tsk. Tsk, Harry," the man chided. "One does not 'make' anything. That's ridiculously uncouth, not to mention presumptuous."

"So what, then?" Harry demanded.

"I _turned_ you, yes. I did not _make_ you," Gaedrian clarified. Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, turning his attention away from the other man. After a moment, his green eyes slid back over to Gaedrian. "I understand that you might feel conflicted at this point," Gaedrian ceded. "Especially with how you were introduced into all of this."

"I wasn't _introduced_ to anything. I haven't a bloody clue about what's going on," Harry said, trying very hard to remain calm. His anger was rising. He wanted to roar about the utter panic he had felt when he had first woken and known that _something_ was different, but was not sure what. How he had not known why the healers had suddenly begun to treat him differently. How he had craved something and the thought of what he craved had terrified him.

It didn't matter; now, Harry was too tired to fight any of it. He'd had about enough and was almost ready to be completely compliant. Except, now, upon seeing Gaedrian once more, he found an odd tangle of anger and, more startlingly, anticipation curling within him.

"How are you feeling?" Gaedrian inquired, wisely turning the subject.

"Fine," Harry answered. When Gaedrian continued to watch him, his expression blank, Harry shifted, grasping more tightly at his drawn knees. "Odd," Harry elaborated. "Hungry," he finished, worried about the implications that it had and yet, at the same time, he felt a refreshing _wildness_ rising within him and he did not fear it, he found he could not even bring himself to be disgusted about the notion of consuming another organism's blood. He didn't care, he wanted to run and prowl.

"You have been starved, my Fledge," Gaedrian said, his voice suddenly sounding very soft, and Harry watched as the man approached the bed slowly, sitting on the end of it, but remaining a distance away from Harry. "You might have broken the fast, but still, the hunger is present."

They sat for a moment in silence, and Harry tried to analyze whether it was an awkward silence of not.

Finally, Gaedrian shifted, recalling Harry's attention. "There is much you will have to learn, and become accustomed to. We will talk for a bit, and then we will go hunting, is that suitable?"

"Hunting?" Harry choked out, not liking the sound of that. It felt as if a bucket of cold water had been splashed onto him. Realization dawned and pushed aside his apathy. That was what he was, a killer. He would spend eternity hunting things down and sucking them dry. An odd panic began to rise in him. That made him no better than Voldemort.

"Hush your thoughts," Gaedrian scolded. "Clearly there is _much_ that you must learn," he said. "Have you not studied vampires? I know it is an unsavory topic in the wizarding world but …"

"I grew up muggle," Harry snapped. "I spent my life with the Dursleys." It felt odd, his emotions kept fluctuating, bouncing back and forth between jarring extremes and he could not settle on an appropriate emotion.

"Yes," Gaedrian said. "The muggles," he seemed to pause, reflecting on this. "All the better," he decided. When Harry looked at him in surprise, Gaedrian grinned. "No preconceived evil notions – well, none that cannot be quickly fixed," Gaedrian said. "If you had been raised wizard, you would no doubt be facing far more severe troubles."

When he did not elaborate, Harry decided to let it go. "But it's true," he asked hesitatingly. "Vampires need blood to survive."

"Yes, it's true," Gaedrian said, as if that were completely obvious. "But you are suffering from the mistaken impression that this involves pain and death." To Harry's blank look, Gaedrian shifted, settling more comfortably on the bed.

"Have you never heard of a muggle name Darwin?" he asked. When Harry nodded, Gaedrian continued. "If vampires require blood to survive, does it make sense that the process of feeding should be entirely unpleasant? Would it not make sense that vampires who could make the experience enjoyable for the donor, pleasant, survive longer?" It made sense to Harry, but he still felt uncertain. "The vampire bite is actually quite enjoyable," Gaedrian explained.

"It hurt like hell," Harry snapped.

"You were not merely bitten, you were turned. Of course it was painful, you are recalling the process you endured. Dying, and then returning, that is painful. The truth is a vampire is capable of either making the process so pleasant that it resembles an orgasm, in fact many times the donor experiences physical release." Harry found himself flushing at that, and tried to stop. "Or, if the vampire so chooses, they can also inflict severe pain with the bite. The pain is not necessary; it is a decision the vampire makes. And we do not kill our victims. Well, not all of us. You must understand that not all vampires are good." Harry smirked, recalling Hagrid saying very similar words to him about wizards. "We have extreme power, and that can be abused and mismanaged. It is the same with wizards.

"What you must know is that, unless the vampire intentionally focuses on it, or is starved to such an extreme that they cannot control themselves, then the donor does not die from the bite."

"Did I –" Harry asked, suddenly becoming afraid at the implications. Gaedrian had said that he had been starved. And yet Harry distinctly recalled the very pleasurable experience of feeding.

"You were not starved to such an extent, and though you are a Fledge, I was there with you to make sure you remained in control, which you did. You must be aware that vampires can experience what we have dubbed the Blood Lust. This occurs either when the vampire has not eaten in a very long time, or when the vampire is extremely angry. In time, you will learn to control yourself and so it will take longer for the blood lust to set in, but as a Fledge, it will take very little to set you off."

"What happens? Harry asked.

"Standard things. Your teeth will unsheathe, your eyes will turn color, wizards and sensitive muggles will feel your power, which will be quite intimidating. You will feel driven to bite. It is when a vampire succumbs to the Blood Lust that he is most likely to kill his donor. But, as I have said, you will learn control, and thus, it is far less likely that you will succumb completely to it. You should know that every vampire experiences the Lust at least once, even the most sensible and strong and stubborn."

Harry shuddered. "How often do they – do we have to feed?" he asked.

"Three a week to remain strong, four times a week for a Fledge, until you learn proper control. You can eat regular food, but this will not satisfy you, nor will it stave off your need for blood. If you go longer than a week you begin to experience the signs of starvation, which are quite different in a vampire than in a muggle or a wizard. You are familiar with several of these stages."

"I am?" Harry asked. "But I haven't even been a vampire for a full week yet."

"A Fledge must feed as soon as it wakes. You were denied this. I fear I must apologize to you as it was my responsibility to find you and free you, but there were a number of factors which interfered and I was not able to get to you until you had been taken to the hospital and I, mistakenly, thought that you would be treated better there than you were. Regardless, you did experience the first stages of starvation.

"If a vampire goes without food for too long, then their body begins to respond to instinct. It is not like the Blood Lust, because you are not driven by emotion and almost always the vampire is still strong enough to be able to remain in control if a donor is found. Meaning that the vampire will not completely drain the donor."

"What are the stages?" Harry asked, curious.

"At first, you will use your powers to attract attention. Mind control, if you have it, to lure a donor to you, reaching out with magic. If this fails to work, then you respond with your body. A vampire's instinct to survive is very strong. You might be familiar with the interpretation of vampires as being highly sexual beings. Well, let me express that at this stage of starvation the vampire – seduces a donor." Harry flushed as a vague memory came to him and he realized that, yes, he had been experiencing starvation, and he had reached this stage. "You remember, I see," Gaedrian teased. "After that, the body begins to decline, systems shut down, the vampire becomes progressively weaker. Finally, the vampire will fall into a sort of hibernation."

"So we can't die from starvation?" Harry asked.

"Not precisely," Gaedrian hedged. "When a vampire falls into hibernation, it is sometimes impossible for them to wake-up."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"The starvation has reached a point where the scent of blood cannot wake them. Sometimes even the taste of blood will not help. It is very complicated, and most of us just accept that it is. We avoid starvation at all costs, naturally. I'm sure you understand."

Harry found himself flushing again. Suddenly a horrific thought struck him, brought on by a memory of one of his aunt Petunia's trashy romance novels that he had stumbled upon once. "Do vampires have a mate?" he asked.

The expression a mixture of surprise and amusement. "Not as such," he said. "If you mean does a vampire have a mate like a veela has a mate, then the answer is certainly 'no'. There is no secret sense that guides a vampire to a lasting partner. And a vampire is perfectly capable of living their entire impressive span of life independently with no specific long-term attachments. However, vampires have been known to take a sort of life-mate." At Harry's confused look, Gaedrian smiled and shook his head. "It is complicated. A certain incantation when combined with the drawing of blood has the result of binding a vampire with a partner. There is no link that exists prior, nothing forces this and there exists no compulsion within either, except their own wishes. It's the vampiric equivalent of marriage. You seemed inordinately concerned with this notion," Gaedrian said.

"My life hasn't exactly been mine own. It seemed like just the sort of thing to happen to me, being turned into something and having my love life governed in the same way the rest of me is," he said.

"Well, are there any other questions that strike you as significant at the moment?" When Harry shook his head, Gaedrian smiled. "Shall we hunt?" he asked.

Harry paused a moment and wondered what exactly he felt about this. It was strange, but he found himself being completely incapable of panicking about any aspect of this. Perhaps it was the apathy that lurked in the background of his mind, no doubt a result of his time at St. Mungo's, but still, the part within him that urged him to run free, run wild, was so strong and seemed so natural that he could not bring himself to be disgusted with it.

"Yes," he said, and rose from his bed.

"Dress first, my Fledge," Gaedrian said, and Harry realized he was still in his hospital pajamas. Gaedrian opened a small closet and removed a set of plain black robes. "These were all I could find. We will have to purchase some things for you, but that can wait. For now," Gaedrian motioned to the clothes before exiting the room.

Harry changed quickly and, feeling oddly coltish, as if he had just learned to walk, he stepped outside. As if reading his mind, Gaedrian smiled. "You are adjusting. It will feel odd at first. Your senses are shifting, and your body has changed."

Looking down at himself, Harry realized that he was slightly taller, and he hadn't needed his glasses since he had first woken at the hospital, but besides that, he was still of the same lean build, his hair was the same dark chaotic mass. "It will take time," Gaedrian said. "But you will soon feel quite different. And much better."

…………………..

Two weeks after recovering Harry from the graveyard, Severus sat in his lab and regarded his notes on his potion to dampen the effects of sunlight on a vampire.

It was entirely theoretical at this point; there were errors in the potion, since his last attempt to brew had resulted in his losing one of his cauldrons. Now, as he simultaneously reviewed his notes and brewed a healing draught for Pomfrey's stores, he was quite irritated to hear the knock at his door. "Enter," he said, in a cool voice and did not look up from his work.

He waited until he had completed the potion and removed it from the burner, setting it aside to cool, before he looked up and noticed that Llyr was seated on one of the student desks and watching him with a patient look. "Is there something you wanted, Mr. Llyr?" Severus asked after a prolonged moment of silence.

"Just a chat, Severus," Gaedrian said with a sort of smirk which reminded Severus vaguely of Lucius Malfoy. The thought surprised Severus. Despite the smirk, Gaedrian was nothing like Severus' old friend. His hair was much longer and a darker blond, and his features were soft.

Shuffling through his papers and trying to appear that he was put-out by the vampire's presence, Severus set his work aside and turned to Gaedrian, managing a look of impatience that he did not feel. "And?" he prompted.

"I'm curious, Severus," Gaedrian began. "I may call you 'Severus', correct?" Severus was silent, but narrowed his eyes slightly at the man. "It's simply that, due to my position here, we are going to be spending time with one another and it would be ridiculous to expect to maintain ludicrous formalities. You must call me Gaedrian, of course," he offered. Severus, again, said nothing, but it didn't seem to bother Gaedrian at all.

"You must be aware of the bonds between a vampire and his fledge," Gaedrian said, changing the topic abruptly. Severus, again, was set on his guard. He was indeed aware of the bonds between the two, sometimes the bond went so far as to include physical attachment, but that was unusual. At the very least, the bond entailed an unconscious sharing of information, rather like being handed a large pensieve and, when need required it, being able to access pertinent information about the other.

"I am aware of the bond," Severus said cryptically, he wanted to see where the man was going with this.

"So you will understand my concern," Gaedrian replied. When Severus said nothing, Gaedrian shook his head. "Stubborn," he chided, almost under his breath, though Severus could still hear him. "It has come to my attention," Gaedrian began, "that the relationship between you and my fledge has been far from polite."

For a moment, Severus was surprised by both the comment and the phrasing. After a brief pause of reflection, recalling various interactions between himself and Harry, Severus could admit that Gaedrian's concern was legitimate. He did not feel compelled to explain his recent epiphany, or how things had managed to change, in whatever small way, lately. In fact, Severus did not feel compelled to make any comment at all, and so he merely quirked an eyebrow and waited.

"Harry has a difficult year ahead of him," Gaedrian continued. "He will already be removed from his peers and isolated because of what he is." Which was an extreme understatement, wasn't it? Still, Severus waited. "If you are to be one of the few tutors he has, I would appreciate it if you could curb your acidic tongue and cease attacking him at every chance."

"The _relationship_, as you so termed it, between Mr. Potter and myself is tenuous at best, and I will proceed as I see fit. However, I have no intention of persecuting him for his vampirism."

"I never thought you would. I am also aware that you are responsible for saving his life, on several occasions," Gaedrian said, with an odd quirk to his lips.

"I am certain you are aware of the Order of the Phoenix and my part in it. My orders, on those occasions, were clear and I followed them to the best of my abilities," Severus said cryptically. In truth, he really had no orders, it was more a general goal within the Order to keep Harry alive and it was more a case of Severus being in a position to realize the dangers and do something about it.

"And that night? I am certain, from the wave of mourning that circulated through those aware of the supposed tragedy, that there was no suspicion that Harry would ever come back," Gaedrian said casually. "You cannot tell me that there were orders then."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "It was a case of unusual luck that I should be at that location at that moment," Severus grudged.

"You would save him willingly, without orders," Gaedrian asked, once again in a suspiciously casual tone that set Severus on edge.

"I would do what is expected of me," Severus said dismissively.

"You would save him, without orders, without expectations. Simply because you had – as you say – an unusual stroke of luck?" he asked, seeming to be only curious.

"I would," Severus hedged after a moment. A strange zing rippled through him as he uttered the words and he grew furious. "You manipulative bastard! Remove it at once!" he growled.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Severus," Gaedrian said, though he sounded amazingly chipper.

"I refuse to be forced into your manipulations! Remove the oath!" Severus snarled.

"It would be fair game, would it not? I did, after all, outsmart the head of Slytherin house. I should receive points. And you are not being _forced_ into anything. You admitted it of your free will, and the oath charm I used will not coerce you into anything. It is merely a precaution and assurance on my part."

Severus hardly felt placated, but he quieted enough realizing that, against a full-vampire, determined as Gaedrian seemed, Severus really stood no chance. "Harry will need all the help he can possibly get. This will merely alert you to certain things. You will not feel compelled to do anything. Any decisions you make will be your own to pursue on your own terms. There are no expectations, and you are in no way bound to anything."

"What, then, is the purpose?" Severus snarled.

"Well," Gaedrian said with a smile, "I feel better now, don't you?" he teased, before he spun on his heel and left the room.

…………………………

Severus' anger had eased slightly by the time he retired to bed. He still did not like the idea of an oath charm, which he still did not fully understanding, being placed on him. Oath charms were serious spells that usually bound a wizard, or several, sometimes even compelling them, somewhat like Imperius. From what he could sense of the oath charm that Llyr had placed on him, there was no such element. Gaedrian had assured him that there was not, but Severus was not so quick to trust. By the way that Gaedrian spoke, it seemed as if there was very little point to have the oath charm. It was very clear to Severus that the vampire had modified the spell to quite an extent, and Severus was not quite comfortable with this knowledge.

Shrugging out of his robes, Severus dropped them in the hamper for the house elves to clean. As he readied for bed Severus noticed the first effect that Gaedrian's oath charm had had on him. On his right arm, was a tattoo of a snake. Its tail rest on his upper arm, and its body wrapped arm, with its head wresting just above his wrist. It did not move, which relieved him, he was not fond of magical tattoos, they seemed a bit ridiculous. Still, as he looked at it, he could tell that even despite its lack of movement, there was certainly magic bound into. "Damn vampire," he muttered to himself as he scowled and crawled into his bed vowing to look into the strange version of the charm that had been used on him. Manifestations of the spell, like the snake currently twining around his arm, were unheard of.

………………….

Harry had been having quite a disorienting and mostly unpleasant few weeks. His senses were becoming increasingly strong as each day passed, and it was quite disorienting. His magic fluctuated and his thoughts were conflicted and he was so overwhelmed with concerns about his future, about public reaction to him, and his own friends' reactions to him, that he could barely settle.

He was in such turmoil that he was unable to clear hi mind and experienced a record number of visions, and when he wasn't trapped in Voldemort's head, he was experiencing nightmares – of his friends' responses, of the persecution and ridicule which lay ahead of him, and of the Dursleys. Harry had never had nightmares about them before. He had become quite adept at locking all thoughts of them away when he was at Hogwarts. Why, now that it was quite certain he would never have to look on them again, was he waking biting down a scream as he recollected that house, and his cupboard?

Harry avoided everyone, except for Gaedrian. It wasn't that he was worried about their reactions – well, not entirely, it was that he just wasn't sure of what to make of it all, and he didn't want to add more complications into his already complicated world. If he had had a choice, Harry would have avoided Gaedrian as well as the man always brought-out the inner conflict, but the man was quite insistent, and often kept his 'fledge' company.

Harry only felt calm when he was out prowling in the Forbidden Forest. It was the only time when all the chaos receded, and there was only the darkness and that sense of complete power, and the race as he ran, chased, pursued, tackled then sunk his teeth into his prey.

Harry had categorized all the creatures in the forest according to their taste. Animal blood wasn't the same as human blood, however, and even if he had only tasted it once, Harry missed the sweetness of it. Still, there was a lingering sense of horror that accompanied the idea of biting a human, even if he knew that the experience wasn't painful.

He and Gaedrian both were awaiting a manifestation of his Gift, Harry with a lingering sense of trepidation. He truly did not want more power. Before being turned, the headmaster had told Harry that he was quite powerful indeed, and Harry was already capable of wandless magic, even if his skill still needed to be trained. He dreaded the idea of more power and the responsibility that would bring. Still, it wasn't as if the Ministry would want him to do their dirty work if he had more power. So often powerful people were used for other people's good. But then again, if Harry received even more power, he would be considered an even greater threat.

When he wasn't hunting, or prowling the grounds in an attempt to clear his head, Harry was in the library. Mostly he went to study the process of becoming an animagus, which he had wanted to do for some time. But sometimes, Harry would look-up books that spoke of vampires.

He did not enjoy what he found.

Harry had been thinking for quite some time on how he would breach the subject with his friends, and he knew that if he had any hope of reaching them, then he had to have some notion of the ideas they would already have about his kind.

The information the books provided were biased, unfounded, and generally inaccurate. The pictures said it all. Grotesque figures, sometimes sprouting bat-like wings crouched over the supine form of some female or another whose clothes had been ripped, and the beastlike figure with ferocious fangs was snarling, or biting. Some pictures depicted a more human-like figure; sometimes the vampire was simply a giant bat. The reactions were all the same, the victim in the picture was always terrified, or in pain, or dead.

Harry had never felt so alone as he did when he read those books. He kept searching in the hopes that he would something, some person who had a clear understanding of what a vampire really was, but always there was nothing. Harry wondered what place he had, in a world that would undoubtedly turn against him? He would clearly still expected to do his 'duty' and fight Voldemort, and Harry didn't mind, to him it was about saving the people who would otherwise be killed, should Voldemort survive. But what was the point if the only person who would ever understand him was his own sire? What was the point if the world, his world, turned their backs on him? What was the point if Ron and Hermione each turned their backs on him.

The answer was simple.

There wasn't one.

TBC

Thanks so much, everyone, for being patient. I'm working on a lot of other stories and I sort of got stuck on this one, but I'm not stopping. Progress is just a bit arduous, considering the amount of work I have ahead of me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope I made it really clear that, just because he is blond does not mean that Gaedrian is Lucius Malfoy, I had some questions about that. Please review!


	4. Chaos Rendered

**Title:** _A Technicality in His Sins_

**Author:** Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Three:** Chaos Rendered

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_Once you get beyond the crust of the first pang_

_It is all the same and you can easily bear it._

_It is just the transition from painlessness to pain_

_that is so terrible._

Anne Morrow Lindbergh, 'Bring Me A Unicorn'

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One week before the students were to return to Hogwarts, Severus found himself walking the hallway to the Library in the middle of the night. It was his habit to avoid the library during popular hours because, despite Madame Pince's greatest efforts, the students were still noisy and Severus found it frustrating. The habit was so ingrained that it carried over to his holidays when the library was always empty, even of Madame Pince.

Which was another reason why Severus paused – stunned -- in the entrance to the library that evening. The first reason being that Harry Potter had been elusive since he had been brought to spend the rest of his summer at the school, and Severus himself had only seen him twice and that was a good while ago. And the second reason being that Harry Potter's appearance had changed.

Once a scrawny, gangly sort of thing, ill-clad in baggy attire, and continually looking sheepish and irritatingly innocent, this Harry Potter -- the one that sat before him now -- had undergone quite the transformation. For once the boy was properly clad in appropriate and well-fitted wizarding attire – black pants and a black button-down complemented the lean frame, and a long black cloak with deep red on the inside was thrown over his shoulders. He looked pale, though the boy had always seemed thus, and there was a flush to his cheeks as if he had been running very fast. Severus assumed he had recently come in from the hunt.

"Professor," the youth greeted, looking up from his work and giving Severus a cautious look that reminded the man that he still stood in the doorway, staring at his student.

"Potter," Severus replied, and then drew himself up and swept in his usual brisk manner to the appropriate section of the library and buried himself in the stacks. He was still there, meticulously working through the stacks that contained pertinent books when he heard the quiet footfalls that he had come to associate with the only other vampire occupying Hogwarts.

"You are working again?" came Gaedrian's distinctive voice. Severus pretended not to listen as he perused the table of contents in another text. Not that it mattered, he was well hidden in the back of the library, but then again, Severus was only too aware that vampires had amazingly keen senses. "If you overtax yourself, you will make it worse," Gaedrian said, sounding a bit closer. Severus frowned wondering what was happening with Harry that his sire should sound so concerned.

"It's not so bad," Harry replied, and Severus noted for the first time, the strain that was in the young man's voice.

"Which is why you are attempting to distract yourself in this manner," Gaedrian responded disbelievingly. "What is it today?" There was a pause and a shuffle; Severus assumed the older vampire was perusing the books that Harry had stacked about him. "You should not waste your time, thus," Gaedrian said, his voice sounding amused and fond.

"It's not wasting my time if it keeps me awake and distracts me," Harry returned. "I feel like I'm going insane." His voice sounded muffled, and Severus shifted, trying to peer out from between the rows of bookshelves and get a view. Harry had raised his hands to his face and was rubbing his temples.

"I will increase the warding on your room," Gaedrian offered.

"It won't help. It's the building itself. It's everyone in it. It's everyone _outside_ of it. It's absolutely every little thing and it only gets worse each day."

"You will adjust to it in time, I can assure you," Gaedrian said. He had moved to stand behind Harry's chair and had taken over the task that Harry's fingers had been working on, rubbing gently at the temples.

"If I'm not driven insane first. And don't tell me that this is normal. I've bloody well read every book you gave me on vampiric abilities and nothing like this has been reported before. I'm damn will sick of being _special_."

Gaedrian laughed and smoothed down Harry's hair, shaking his head when it bounced back into disarray. "It is unprecedented. But it is something that I would imagine would have happened if someone along the lines of Merlin were ever turned. Fortunately, or unfortunately, no vampire was fool enough to turn someone as powerful as Merlin, and so there is no documentation for you."

"Great, pick on me because I'm young," Harry huffed. "See what hell you've condemned me to." But from his tone it was obvious he was only partly serious.

"We will work harder. Hopefully you'll have established some decent barriers by the time the students arrive."

"I don't even want to talk about that," Harry sighed. Severus noticed Gaedrian's hand tightening where it gripped Harry's shoulder, before he withdrew it and turned away, heading out of the library.

"I'll start the re-warding. Both of our rooms are already quite isolated, so the return of the students shouldn't affect you too drastically, at least when you are in your room. I'll see what I can do." He was at the library doors and turned back, but Severus noticed Harry's head was bent, probably having returned to his reading. Gaedrian quietly shut the doors behind him.

Severus took his time perusing the books, but Harry was still there when he left, and though he paused a brief moment near Harry's table, debating whether it was appropriate to say 'good-night' or not, Harry did not look up from his books even once, so Severus left as quietly as he could, mind already working on the puzzle that the information he had overheard had presented him

………………………….

Three days later found Severus sipping tea in the headmaster's office. It had become a bit of a tradition, the weekly teas, and Severus grudgingly admitted, to himself only, that they were enjoyable and relaxing. As much as Albus Dumbledore tended to frustrate him, the man was still his mentor and as close to a father as Severus had ever gotten. "Have you decided on how to handle Potter?" Severus found himself asking, happy that he had managed a disinterested tone. He was hoping that the headmaster would be able to shed some light on the peculiar conversation he had overheard three days prior. Severus, though admittedly a bit of a night owl, rarely left his rooms unless he was checking to make sure students were upholding the rules of the school. During breaks, he often spent his extra time reading or creating potions. And since both Harry and his sire had been elusive anyway, Severus had not had the opportunity to explore the latest information.

"It is a difficult situation," Albus agreed, steepling his fingers and peering over his half-moon glasses. "I think it best to announce the nature of the situation before suspicion and curiosity has the chance to get out of control."

"It's about time you attempted the curb the gossip," Severus pointed out. He had always been against cultivating the gossip mill at the school, but Albus never attempted to dissuade rumours claiming that it sometimes distracted people from the real issues, which were sometimes secret.

"I will make it clear he is not attending classes here, of course. Which brings me to another issue," Albus said, and Severus knew right away that this was a lead-in to something that Albus was going to try to convince Severus to do; he just knew it. "Harry will have to have his lessons, and you have already said that you are willing to teach him."

"I have no issue with his vampirism. It is as necessary today that he be educated as it was prior to the attack on his home. More so now, I think, since his altered nature will attract more danger to him."

"Very good, I appreciate this. It has come to my attention, however, that Harry has been coming into some new abilities that will need to be fostered. I must admit that I am at a loss as to what will help him for parts of his growing power. I assume I may end-up having someone from outside of the school come to tutor him in coping. For now, though, there is something that I can do, and that is ask you if you will resume Occlumency as well as Legilemency lessons with him."

Severus sat still a moment and let his thoughts broil. He had made his peace with Potter, it was true, but there was a very basic part of him that was still very defensive and angry at the memory of a young Harry blustering about in his pensieve where he did not belong. He could understand that the boy did not understand what he was doing, since Severus had heard that Potter had done a similar thing involving the headmaster's pensieve and not been appropriately reprimanded – reprimanded at all, let alone appropriately so. He could also understand the boy's need to _know_ because so much had been and still was kept from him. Still, that did not excuse the action, and a part of him wanted to remain affronted. And if he was to do that effectively, he should turndown this request.

Potter, however, still woefully intrigued another part of him, since his supposed death – and even more so now because of what he had become. He found himself sympathizing with the youth, and fascinated at the same time, and that might have been disturbing, but Severus had always had an overpowering sense of curiosity, and very little defence against it.

"I will endeavour to do so once more," Severus aid slowly. "On the condition that the boy actually practices his lessons."

"I think you will find him most anxious to make progress in this area. I might suggest, however, a different approach. I fear that, given the change in circumstances, your former style would prove too dangerous for you, and much too taxing for him."

"I suppose you will continue to taunt me with references to some strange acquired gift without telling me directly what the boy's power is? No doubt you will use it as some sort of excuse to have me _bond_ with him." Severus was proud both of his sneer and the way he had managed to turn the word 'bond' into a foul term.

"My dear Severus, that would be most unfair and manipulative of me," Albus said with a faint smile. "I suggest you begin the lessons as quickly as you are able. Harry is having quite a difficulty as it is." Severus sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes.

……………………

The knock on his door jolted him from his potion brewing and Severus glanced up at the clock and frowned. It was late, not too late as to be completely unthinkable that a person would be up, but late enough that he could not imagine it being one of his colleagues disturbing him. "Enter," he said, and returned to stirring.

He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as the door to his office opened slowly and Harry Potter stepped in. Severus couldn't help but approve of the boy's new penchant to dress in dark colours before he turned back to his work.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Harry said, hovering by the door once he had closed it. It was bizarre that he should appear both confident and poised, and nervous and sheepish.

"So long as you have an appropriate reason," Severus said.

Harry sighed and glanced around the office, noting the fire with the cauldron set in it, and the shelves of potion bottles, as well as the cluttered desk. "I was wondering if you had a bottle of headache cure. Poppy's run-out of it and said to go to you."

"A rather simple potion, Potter. I wonder why you are not simply brewing it yourself," Severus snarked as he turned from his brewing and went to the cabinet that held that particular potion. He snarked purely out of habit, and because if he had said something helpful, or simply handed the potion over, Harry would have gotten suspicious, or cocky – or had some sort of reaction which Severus did not feel like dealing with, he was in the middle of brewing, after all.

"Dragon bloom only blossoms in sunlight and I have a bit of a problem with the light," Harry quipped, and Severus paused in taking down the bottle, his lips quirking up in amusement.

"I can see how the thought of turning into a small mound of ash might dissuade you from collecting the required ingredients," Severus said and turned to see Potter's reaction. Surprisingly, he didn't seem affronted or unnerved, he was smirking though, and Severus couldn't help but think that this new Harry looked remarkably Slytherin. "How severe is the headache? And how often do you suffer from it?"

"The severity changes." Though he did not say why that was. "And it's pretty constant, usually quite dull but sometimes more fierce. Poppy's been given me just a general dose."

"And how has that been working?"

"Fine. I take another dose if the headache is stronger, as she prescribed."

"Then I shall give you a larger bottle. If you find you still require it, do return. This is from my private store so you should know it is brewed to be stronger."

"Of course, you would dilute it for the smaller students," Harry said, almost to himself.

"Yes," Severus answered and handed the bottle over.

"So I should take less?"

"Do as you please. Though if it is as bad as you imply, I would recommend you keep the dose constant."

"Thank-you, sir," Harry said, bowing his head slightly and leaving swiftly. Even though he was watching the dark-headed man leave, Severus never heard a sound, not even the faintest swish of robes.

……………………

Severus was seated at the head table watching as the students chattered happily, and the newly sorted first years stared at everything, overwhelmed by it all. He was pleased with the number of Slytherin first years, all of which seemed properly composed – unlike the Gryffindors who were flailing their arms about as they spoke and generally seeming loud and boisterous.

Beside him, Remus Lupin was likewise surveying the students. He had been welcomed back as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, and Severus wondered if that wasn't partly to distract from the other supposed dark creatures, being Harry and Gaedrian, who were also being housed at the school. "They seem to get smaller every year," Remus sighed. Severus nodded his head vaguely. He thought a moment about saying he recalled several first years from the past who would have rivalled the minute size of this years – Harry Potter being one, but he thought that might seem too sociable, and so maintained his silence.

As the students finally settled, Albus rose from his chair to make announcements. Along with his typical introductions and rules, he had two extra things to say. "Hogwarts is pleased to welcome back, as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin." To this statement the hall was split, some students roared and applauded and even gave a standing ovation, while others scowled and whispered, looking grim, and the younger students, too young to have had Remus before, seemed uncertain how to proceed since the older students, whose example they were following, seemed to be having such diverse reactions.

"Intending on lasting more than a year this round, Lupin?" Severus asked.

"I intend on trying, Severus," Remus said as he resettled in his seat after rising and acknowledging his welcome.

"Also, I have a very important announcement concerning one of our own students. As a result of an attack on his home, Harry Potter has become a walker of the night." This statement was met with several gasps and a few confused looks, which quickly turned to horror when other students explained. "As a result, he will not be attending regular classes, however he is currently residing in Hogwarts along with his sire, and will receive private lessons. I would hope that the students of this school show appropriate manners and decorum towards our guest, and towards Mr. Potter. Thank-you." When Albus retook his seat, the students were still whispering frantically.

"Oh dear," Remus sighed, and Severus followed his line of sight to see Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger looking quite stricken. "I had hoped they might react somewhat differently," Remus admitted. "I had _hoped_ that the announcement might be delayed long enough for him to tell them himself." Severus quietly agreed but did not voice it. He had already commenced his lessons with Harry and even in such a short amount of time; he was finding it very easy to enjoy the young man's company. He had honestly hoped that at the very least, Harry's two closest friends might remain loyal, but their reactions did not bode well.

"I am not surprised by their reactions," Severus said.

"You approve?" Remus said, his voice sounding threatening. Severus was forced to recall that Remus had claimed Harry as his cub, and since the werewolf had no other real family, he guarded the boy fiercely.

"The fact that I am tutoring him should demonstrate otherwise," Severus sneered. "But as much as you would try to understand his situation, you must admit that it is quite different from your own. Werewolves are dark creatures, it is true, but they are an irregular threat, dangerous only at times near a full moon. And their folklore is not all horrid. Vampires, on the other hand, have gotten no positive publicity through the ages, and you must admit that a vampire is always dangerous, unless it is encased in garlic, stabbed in the heart with a stake and sent out for a stroll in the sunlight."

"Rather a gruesome image," Remus said, and his voice sounded very soft. He paused a moment and reached for his goblet, no doubt to wash-down the lump that had entered his throat. As he reached his sleeve road-up on his right arm and Severus caught the dark image of a snake tattoo before Remus shifted the sleeve to cover it. Remus carried-on as if nothing irregular had happened, but Severus felt the world contracting as he attempted to figure-out what that damn vampire was planning. He couldn't help but become even more aware of his own tattoo of a similar serpent on his own right arm. It seemed like a vaguely warm presence on his skin. Severus wondered if Remus was feeling similar warmth in his own. He wondered what it meant.

………………………

Harry stood in the shadows, watching the students spill out of the Great Hall. They did not see him, he did not want them to, but when he spotted Ron and Hermione exiting he stepped forward. There were not so many students in the hall, and through a little exertion of his will, they did not turn and take notice of him. Ron and Hermione did, however, and they simply stood and stared at him.

"I'm sorry," were the first words to tumble from his mouth. He paused a moment to wonder why on earth he should be sorry, it wasn't as if he could have helped any of it. It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to be turned. "I wanted to tell you myself but … well, I was still sleeping," he supplied with a shy shrug. "Are you," and as he stepped forward, Ron seemed to jerk into action, standing between Harry and Hermione.

"Don't," Ron said. Harry felt as if he were breaking into a million pieces.

"Okay," Harry said. "Look, I don't … I'm not dangerous," he tried. "I know the stories you've probably heard but--" He couldn't continue. His head, despite his attempts at occlumency was flooding with thought and feeling, and it was pounding and he felt woozy. He wondered when his powers would settle and stop fluctuating because it was pure agony most of the time; despite his and Gaedrian's and Snape's best efforts to soften the ache.

"I honestly don't know what to think," Ron said, and looked bewildered and a bit sorry.

"That's fine," Harry said. "That's okay. Just don't …" he wasn't sure what he was asking them not to do. There seemed so many things, and yet nothing that he could ask of them.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said, and she sounded like she really meant it, but she was shrinking back from him.

"I won't hurt you!" he snapped, except that was exactly the wrong thing to do, because they seemed utterly terrified of him now.

"Harry?" Gaedrian called, and Harry turned to look down the hallway where he felt his sire coming.

"Sorry," Hermione said again, and Harry turned back just in time to see both Hermione and Ron turning and heading away from him. He thought for a moment, if he should go after them, but at that moment Gaedrian's hand fell upon his shoulder, and Harry sighed.

"Your potion," Gaedrian said, offering the bottle to him. "You left before you could take it." Harry sipped the headache cure obediently and handed the bottle back to his sire. He liked that Gaedrian knew better than to ask how things had gone, he simply knew by looking at Harry. Or perhaps his sire had seen it in one of his visions. No, Harry knew better than to think that, Gaedrian would have warned him if he had. At the very least, he would have dropped a few hints to prepare him. "Come, Fledge," Gaedrian said, giving a broad and dramatic gesture to motion Harry onward. "We must not go gently into this good night," Gaedrian said. "We must take down a beast or two, first."

"Have I ever told you how very strange you are?" Harry asked conversationally.

"Then what a fine pair we make, my Fledge," Gaedrian grinned. "You have exactly one hour before your professors begin to grow impatient."

"I just woke up!" Harry whinged obediently, grateful for the distraction from his painful thoughts; he went with Gaedrian's act. "Merlin, I miss coffee." Gaedrian laughed good-naturedly at the comment.

……………………….

There was a time when Harry knew that the prospect of two long classes with Severus Snape, back-to-back would have made him scream and run in the opposite direction. Now, Harry found himself thoroughly enjoying these classes. Admittedly he was not as skilled at potion brewing as he was at transfiguration or some of this other courses; but he was not so horrid as Snape would have had him, at one time, believe. Harry's favourite class, however, was occlumency, because for those few hours Harry felt really at peace.

"Breathe deeply, Potter," Severus was instructing, and Harry adjusted fractionally on the cushion on which he was seated. The warmth of the fire he was seated before was aiding his meditation, as was Severus' voice, which Harry was finding lulling. No longer did the dour man insult or berate him; true, Severus was a strict teacher, but it seemed as if something had changed drastically between them, and there was a strange sense of understanding now. Harry found himself relaxing in Severus Snape's company in a way that previously, he had only been able to do with Gaedrian, or Remus. He was finding he trusted the spy implicitly, and that was a very strange thing.

Occlumency lessons consisted of Harry meditating within the confines of a protective circle. He had found it too difficult to learn the art with as many things flitting in and out of his head as he had. Severus was teaching him how to build-up barriers against the unwelcome things. Harry was making progress, but it was slow going, and difficult, and sometimes painful. Severus had put a halt to teaching him legilimency since Harry's gift had developed in such a way that he no longer needed to learn it at all, and Severus' attempt to use legilimency on Harry had been particularly disastrous as he had gone into shock from overexposure.

Harry's gift was one that he could not see the benefit of. Due to his level of magical power, his gift had continued to develop and in some ways, still was developing, and had branched into several areas. The link, as Gaedrian had explained it, was that they were all mind-powers, and so were related. Harry's magic released the Gift in him, and because his magic was so strong, it spilled into other areas. So, while most vampires would develop either skill in divination, or in telepathy, Harry had developed both, along with acute empathy. He was also rather skilled at wandless magic, more so than any normal wizard was usually able to achieve, especially at such a young age. Harry didn't even need a wand at all, but he used it because it was habit, and because he was rather putout by his 'gift'. In his mind, his gift was stupid, and embarrassing, to have such extensive power. There was no benefit to being overwhelmed constantly by other people's thoughts and emotions, by the intrinsic magic of a place, by thoughts of possible futures, And, if he happened to be able to fall soundly into sleep, he was likely awoken by a vision sent care of Voldemort. Harry wondered if he would ever have any peace.

"Must I knock you on the head with a text in order to clear it of all thought?" Severus snarked.

"You always struck me as the sort of person who treated books with reverence," Harry retorted.

"Clear your mind, and let's try to avoid discovering whether or not I'm bluffing," Severus responded.

"Sounds like a plan, sir."

"Be quiet," Severus said, but his tone was amused and exasperated. So Harry closed his eyes, and settled into mediation, propped on what he had come to call 'his pillow' in the middle of 'his protection circle' by the hearth in his professor's private chambers. He thought for a moment about how at home he had come to feel in these rooms, that belonged to a man he used to hate. Somehow, over the summer despite little interaction, their animosity had cooled. And, with the three weeks that had passed since school commenced, Harry had reached a point of peculiar companionship with his professor. As soon as he thought it, he released the thought. Harry had discovered it was better not to analyse Severus Snape, as the man was quite complex. Besides, Harry enjoyed the enigma of him.

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End Chapter Three:

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	5. The Definition of Evil

**Title:** _A Technicality In His Sins_

**Author:** Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Four:** The Definition of Evil

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_People change and forget to tell each other._

Lillian Hellman, 'Toys in the Attic'.

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The forest was filled with a cloying mist, and everything glowed in the light from the full moon as it found its way through the canopy of leaves and the kissed the droplets of moisture floating in the air. Severus thought that the Forbidden Forest had never seemed so peaceful – and so deadly. The soft chirrup of the crickets and crunch of leaves and dirt beneath his boots were the only sounds, but Severus knew only too well that he was not alone in the woods.

It was a result of an outbreak of wizard's flu that had him prowling the forest at that ungodly hour. Poppy was fresh out of the potion that cured the malady and had requested Severus brew a fresh batch. Except that Severus had been teaching his seventh years how to prepare the Dream Walker potion, and they had used his supply of night-thistle, which was the key ingredient in the potion Poppy had requested. Since night-thistle, of course, only bloomed at night, and because it was a wild plant and existed as a natural part of the Forbidden Forest's ecosystem, Madame Sprout had never bothered to plant her own batch, which meant to get it, Severus had to find it in the Forest.

It was not a daunting task, merely an inconvenient one; especially since he had not been getting enough sleep. Just the night before he had been forced to cancel his lesson with Potter in order to answer the Dark Lord's summons, and he had come home very late – or rather, quite early in the morning; and there were classes to teach, and then Poppy and her damn potions list that he needed to see to _right away_.

Cursing to himself and completely involved in his task of scouring the forest floor for any sign of night-thistle, Severus almost didn't see Potter in the clearing – which was silly, because it was _impossible_ to miss Potter in the clearing. He stalled in his tracks, completely captured by the sight of Harry Potter kneeling over the prone form of what could only be a thestral, drinking from the things neck. From a _dark beast_! The horse did not seem to be complaining – seemed quite compliant, and Potter was quieting the beast, soothing it with a hand patting along its back.

Severus had never seen a vampire feed. He knew from his scant interaction with several vampires that feeding was not necessarily unpleasant, but there was something captivating about the sight before him. Harry looked up, stroked the beast's neck as the horse righted itself, and Severus could see clearly the points of the boy's fangs, could see the unearthly light shining in those vibrant green eyes. Never before had been more aware of the boy's vampirism, not even when the boy drifted without a sound by a mirror that showed no sign of his passing.

He stood, still unable to move, as Harry rose and watched the horse bob its head and then trot from the clearing. "Professor," Harry greeted, looking suddenly shy and sheepish – a look which warred with his dark confidence.

"Mr. Potter," Severus managed after a moment.

"I wondered how you were," Harry said, walking to join him where he stood.

Severus knew the boy was inquiring after the meeting the night before. "Quite well." And the amused quirk in the boy's dark eyebrow let Severus know that Harry understood he irony of that. "I am on a mission from Madame Pomfrey, searching out night-thistle."

"There's a batch that grows just over the hill," Harry answered helpfully, gesturing to the hill just beyond them.

"Not even the middle of October, and yet you know the forest so well?" Severus taunted.

"Not really," Harry answered. "But it's scent is wicked strong. I could locate batch of night-thistle in my eyes blindfolded just by following that stench." Which Severus found odd, because he had always thought night-thistle smelled pleasing. "Oh, yes. In moderation," Harry said, as if answering Severus' statement. "But when there's as much of it as here is growing near, it's overpowering and cloying."

"Harry!" Gaedrian's voice rang through the woods, and a moment later, he appeared winding his way through the trees. "Lessons," he said, by way of explanation, and Harry rolled his eyes but waved.

"Thank-you for your directions, Mr. Potter," Severus drawled as Harry moved to follow his sire. "And Harry," he called, causing the boy to turn around once more. "Do try to keep out of my thoughts."

"My apologies, Severus," Harry answered with a smirk.

…………………..

Lucius Malfoy was a formidable sight, rich blue-velvet cloak billowing behind him as he walked briskly through the halls of Hogwarts. He did not pause as he muttered the password which all board members knew to the stone gargoyle and paced up the wending steps, bursting through the heavy door to the headmaster's office without pausing to knock on the door.

Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall, each sitting in the office and looking unsurprised to see him there. That infuriated him all the more, but he hid that well behind his cool exterior. "Headmaster," he drawled, inclining his head only slightly. "It had been brought to the attention of the board that you are harboring two vampires at the school."

"There are two vampires staying here, yes," Albus answered.

"The board has voted, and has come to the conclusion that they must be ejected from the school by noon today," Lucius said, and handed over the document with the forged signatures of the board; the witches and wizards who made-up the board of governors for the school was quite lax in their involvement, a fact that Lucius exploited at every available opportunity.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Malfoy, that is impossible for me to do," Albus answered. "Being what they are, it would be most inconvenient for our guests to find themselves without lodging in the middle of the day. Not to mention the fact that they are staying as guests of the school, which puts them out of the board's jurisdiction."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius huffed.

"The founders of the school, as you no doubt know well, were quite specific in their notions of how it should run. The board of governor's has every right to vote on the running of the school, and even to disagree with a decision the headmaster makes," Minerva McGonagall explained as Albus leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "However, the school was also created as a pillar of wizarding society. A hub, if you will, offering refuge and aid to those in need of it. This aspect of the school falls completely to the headmaster to run. It is neutral, in the sense that neither the Ministry for Magic, nor the board of governors can object to those seeking shelter so long as they are not wanted criminals, which our guests most certainly are not."

"They are dark creatures!" Lucius retorted.

"That may be true, Mr. Malfoy," Minerva continued. "But since neither of our guests are students at the school and are seeking only shelter and security, they are outside of the concern of the board. Therefore, those signatures mean nothing."

"Harry Potter is a student of this school!" Lucius protested. "He is being educated here!"

"Mr. Potter is not attending classes here any longer," Albus said.

"I happen to know, for a fact, that professors from this school are giving Potter lessons," Lucius said, smirking, certain he had reclaimed the upper hand.

"Mr. Potter does not attend formal lessons, nor does he fulfil any of the components that the founders stated determined a person as a student of the school. Whatever my professors choose to do on their own time is none of my concern, so long as they are not putting the other students at risk; which they are not."

"Educating dark creatures is not putting other children at risk?"

"I do not so strictly run my school that I would limit what my professor's do to amuse themselves in their free time. So long as they are rested enough to perform their duties to the school when they are needed, then they may do as they please. I believe any of your other complaints have already been addressed."

Lucius knew that there was nothing else he could do. His attempt to free Potter from the protective guard of Hogwarts had failed, and he knew when to cut his losses. "The day will come, _headmaster_," he sneered. "When you can no longer hide behind your school, and when it does, you will find yourself ill-equipped to handle the rest of the world"

"But until then," Albus said, completely unfazed. "I bid you good-bye."

……………………….

Gaedrian awoke just before dusk and for a moment, could not understand what on earth he was doing awake when there were still traces of the sun in the sky. Not, of course, that any light made it into his room. He was in the dungeons, after all, and the small window y he ceiling of the room was well covered, both by a strong spell, and by heavy black-velvet curtains.

He lay on his bed a moment longer, wondering why he was awake, when a soft sound, like the whimper of a small wounded animal, reached his ears and instinct drove him from his room to the chambers neighbouring his own where his fledge was caught in the clutches of another vision.

Harry had grown better at controlling his gift, but there was little he could do to block the visions, and with the powers his vampirism had given him, those visions were an acute torture, complete with full sensation and emotion, both of those suffering at Voldemort's hand, and of Voldemort's pleasure as he proceeded. Knowing what he would find before he even pulled-back the thick curtains that surrounded his fledge's bed, Gaedrian was unsurprised to find Harry, his back arched high off the bed, mouth open in a scream that choked in his throat – blocked by the sheer magnitude of the pain he was experiencing. His fingers were clenching the bedding, and hiss body was already spasming violently from the dual affects, both of the curse he was experiencing, and from his muscle's locking.

Gaedrian knew there was nothing he could do to put a stop to it, but that didn't prevent him from pulling his fledge into his arms and holding him tightly, rocking him as a doting parent would do their child, and crooning an old lullaby that his mother, ages ago, would sing to him as a child. He stayed that way until Harry was released from the vision, and his body fell still against Gaedrian's save for periodic spasms. Slowly, bleary eyes squinted open, barely able to open, and glazed green eyes met Gaedrian's own.

"Hush, little one," Gaedrian whispered, brushing the dark hair, damp with sweat, from his fledge's forehead. "You are awake, you are safe," the only two things that mattered at that moment. "You are awake," he repeated, until Harry's eyes fell closed once more, his breathing short and shaky, and Gaedrian settled the boy back into the bed before he hurried out of the room, applying a hasty but strong ward to the room and heading down the hall.

"Severus," he greeted, when the man opened the door to his chambers, looking surprised to see Gaedrian standing there. "I wondered if, perhaps, I might have a bottle of muscle-relaxant potion, a calming draught and Heart's Ease elixir."

"Come in," Severus said, leaving the door open and disappearing into his chambers, no doubt to fetch the requested items. Gaedrian stepped inside and shut the door, doing his best to remain patient. "May I ask why these are necessary?" Severus asked, though they both knew he understood the need of them.

"I'm rather in a hurry, Severus," Gaedrian answered, accepting the potions.

"Is he all right?" Severus asked, trying to sound casual. He moved as if to follow Gaedrian but the vampire raised a hand and shook his head.

"He is in no shape to entertain," Gaedrian answered. "I don't think you should expect him for lessons." Which was, of course, answer enough to Severus' question. Nevertheless, Severus nodded his head.

"I expect to see him tomorrow at an earlier time, then, to make up for this missed lesson," Severus said. Gaedrian knew the statement for the inquiry that it was.

"You may expect him promptly, then," he said, and they nodded at each other, before Gaedrian hurried back down the hall to his fledge.

………………………

It was hard work to wrangle Harry out of bed and into the forest. Harry was exhausted and gloomy as a result of the vision; and even with the potions, Gaedrian knew his fledge was hurting. Still, Gaedrian also knew that feeding would sooth some of the ache, and sense of weakness and was determined to usher Harry out into the cool night hair.

He kept a close eye on Harry as they walked the woods. Usually, Gaedrian would leave Harry to his own hunt, and they would meet later, but this night, as like any other night where Harry had suffered a vision, Gaedrian was protective of the boy, and would not risk him. He watched as Harry refused to hunt, simply sat himself down on a rock, and summoned with his mental powers, a beast to come to him, and drank half-heartedly.

When the creature had gone, Harry remained seated on the stone and stared out through the mist and the darkness, his thoughts elsewhere, and it was only then that Gaedrian bridged the distance he had been leaving between them to sit beside the boy. "Should we return?" he asked. Harry breathed out a long sigh and blinked, but did not answer. It took a moment of Gaedrian to realize that it was because his fledge was listening to something else. "What –" he asked, but was cut off when Harry hushed him, and then, much to Gaedrian's surprise, began hissing.

Gaedrian remained very still and very silent. He knew only too well that his fledge was a parselmouth and that did not bother him, but just because Harry spoke with snakes didn't mean that Gaedrian was calm when he finally noticed the long black asp that was curled beneath a crooked root not too far from where they were seated. Especially when he made-out the faint grey markings on the snake's body that proved this asp was of the magical variety – which certainly explained its being so far away from it's usual habitat which was far south of England.

Magical asps were equipped with a set of small wings that would elongate when the creature wished to make use of them, and were known to travel great distances. They were among the most deadly snakes in world, even if their non-magical counterpart were not awarded that prestigious title. Nor did Gaedrian know of any bonding process that might tame the snake at all. Some magical creatures did choose to bond to a witch or wizard, and would not strike them and would obey their orders that they could understand through the bond. Magical asps were not so friendly, which was why Gaedrian wanted to beat sense into his young fledge when the blasted boy suddenly rose from his seat and moved slowly towards the root and then – Gaedrian was holding his breath by this point – bent and picked up the blasted thing!

Gaedrian began the mental preparations for what he knew would come. Prepared to return to Hogwarts and explain to the staff and the headmaster that his fledge had died because he had dared to manhandle a magical snake for no apparent reason. Prepared to watch his fledge die a most excruciating death as a result of the bite he would be receiving any moment.

Then blinked in utter shock when the long black snake – much longer than he had originally guessed – coiled weakly around his fledge's upper body, draped around him like a woman's cloak, and stayed there, looking quite comfortable.

"Now we can return," Harry said, and began walking back towards Hogwarts.

Gaedrian returned to his senses after a moment and took off after the blasted boy. "Have you lost your mind?"

Harry seemed, at first, not to understand to what he might be referring, and it took Gaedrian gesturing at the snake napping happily around the boy for Harry to shake his head, as if exasperated with _Gaedrian's_ antics, and explained. "She's hurt. I offered to help her and she accepted. She won't bother you, I promise."

"Oh, well _that_ is a relief," Gaedrian huffed, and Harry grinned at him in that way that always rendered it impossible for Gaedrian to remain angry.

………………………….

"Harry!" The shout stopped him as he was returning to his chambers from his last lesson, clutching several healing potions in his hand. He was unsurprised to find himself facing Ron and Hermione when he turned, but only because he knew their scents and had smelled them ever since he had stepped out of Severus' chambers.

"What do you want?" he inquired, forcing himself to remain calm, to be composed, to not let on how much it was hurting to see them.

"We wanted to apologize," Hermione said. "And to say --- wait, where are you going?" she huffed when he turned around again and proceeded to walk to his rooms.

"This is hardly the place to chat," he answered, eyebrow raised, and they looked around as if only then realizing they were talking in the middle of the hallway near the main stairs that led from the dungeon to the Great Hall.

They followed him quietly as he walked the familiar route to his chambers, and looked oddly chagrined when he whispered his password too quietly for them to hear. He had done it on purpose, and they knew him well enough to understand that. Finally, he stepped aside and let them enter.

"Holy fuck!" Was the first thing out of Ron's mouth when he stepped inside. At first, Harry thought it was Ron's jealousy acting-up again. That the redhead was about to start in again on how Harry had everything – huge, luxurious rooms to himself and on and on and he took a resigned breath, shutting the door behind him and preparing for the rant, but a moment later he felt a familiar sensation of a long-lithe body winding its way along his own, and noticed that Ron's eyes were now running up his leg – then his hips – and he had his wand drawn and looked horrified. "Stay still," Ron was saying. "Don't move."

"Oh, stop it," Harry snapped, and shifted Isis from where she was wrapping around his waist up to perch on his shoulders. "She's harmless."

_"Harmless_!" Hermione huffed. "Harry, that's a magical asp!"

"I know perfectly well what she is, and I'm telling you to let her alone." He carried her to his fireplace, which was lit, and deposited her on his fur rug; kneeling beside her and uncorking the first vial that Severus had given him and the healing salve he'd requested. He did his best to hide his amusement as he watched, out of the corner of his eye, as both Ron and Hermione inched their way over to him slowly, never taking their eyes away from Isis. "Anyway, you came here to tell me something?" he prompted.

"We wanted to apologize," Hermione said, her eyes still darting between him and his snake. "We acted horribly to you, deserting you like that."

"It was understandable," Harry dismissed. "After all, I'm a dark creature – as dark as they come."

"But you're not!" Hermione insisted.

"What changed your mind," he retorted, causing her to wince and shake her head. "All the books label us as 'dark' and 'dangerous' and say we should be exterminated," he said. "So you can't have been influenced after rifling through the library."

"There are more important things," Hermione answered, and it reminded Harry painfully of their first year, when she'd said the same thing.

"We trust you, Harry," Ron explained, and Harry tried to pretend that he wasn't suddenly being filled with desperate hope.

"What we're trying to say," Hermione said. "Is that, it doesn't matter what the books say because we know _you_ and you couldn't possibly be those things."

"I could be," Harry answered. "If vampires were as dark as they say, then I wouldn't have a choice."

"If vampires were all that dark, you wouldn't still be here," Hermione answered, and he knew immediately to what she was referring. And what was more she was right. If he had woken to find that vampires were everything that all the books had claimed them to be, he would have happily taken a walk in the noonday sun. "We want to know if you would still consider us friends."

Harry finally took his eyes from his task and managed a small smile at the two people who had vowed, from the very beginning, to die for him if need be. "Yeah," he answered. "Always."

……………….

Rumours travelled quickly through Hogwarts – they always had – and though some did their best to deny their veracity, their attempts were crushed when, on Hallowe'en, the Gryffindor trio walked into the Great Hall for the first time al year as a trio once more. At the head table, Minerva appeared proud, and Albus' eyes sparkled, but Gaedrian and Severus Snape eyed the trio with assessing eyes, and knew that this would complicate things.

Under the watchful gaze of Harry's sire, no one dared challenge the young fledge; and with Harry present, no one spoke a word to either Ron or Hermione. Several Gryffindors made an attempt to smile, but Harry's vampirism had physically changed him, and his peers were unnerved by the obvious signs; for one things, he sat at a table laden with food, and was not eating.

"Just ignore it, Harry," Hermione encouraged as they walked back to McGonagall's office where he was due for his transfiguration class.

"They don't bother you, do they?" Harry asked, concerned for his friends.

"Not more than usual. Not more than any of the other times the school's turned against you," Ron teased, but Harry didn't find it funny.

"You should steer clear of me, then. I mean, I'd understand. You know, keep the friendship secret. I could loan you my cloak."

"We're not sneaking around to see you!" Hermione huffed, and he was both comforted and distressed to hear her say it.

He did his best not to dwell on it, he knew his friends far too well to think that he could influence them on this; and so he led them through the dungeon to the painting of a cobblestone road that led to a great tower, with a black cat perched like a sentinel on the side of the path, who paced back and forth across the path much to Harry's amusement. Ron had commented on his guarding picture's sense of humour, but it seemed oddly fitting to Harry and he never asked it to cease its actions.

"Dammit, Harry," Ron said as they entered his rooms. "Another one?" Harry glanced towards the hearth where five snakes, each one of the poisonous variety, curled up for warmth.

"Oh, yeah. That one's Sympkin," Harry said, and smiled as the snake – this one a regular king cobra, reared its head and eyed them, hissing out a greeting, before returning to its rest. "He doesn't count," he said, when both his friends eyed his with raised eyebrows. "He was a gift from Gaedrian – a belated birthday present."

"Some birthday present," Ron scoffed.

"It's someone to talk to," Harry admitted, his voice soft, and Ron and Hermione looked understanding, before Hermione broke the solemn moment by pulling out her books from her backpack.

"Well, I, for one, am happy for a quiet place to study. The library is overrun with people these days and none of them seem to understand what it means to be quiet!" Harry rolled his eyes but pulled out his own books, and they settled down to study together as if everything that had split them apart had never happened.

…………………..

It was inevitable, but that didn't mean Harry hadn't been hoping it never happened. He didn't awake so very late that the students were all in the dormitories, and he'd run into them in the hallways more often than not on his way to his classes, or to the woods, or to visit his professors or friends. For the most part, they bit their tongues and gave him a wide berth. It was not so on that night.

Harry was rushing through the hallways, running late for his defence class with Remus because Rinoa – a small magical snake, about the length of his wrist to his elbow, with yellow and black bands – had taunted Goliath – his magical Egyptian Temple Snake, which was purportedly the largest snake (outside of a basilisk) in existence – and Goliath had proceeded to teach Rinoa a lesson by holding her in his mouth. Harry had been forced to reason and bargain and bribe with the large snake, and finally Goliath had spat her out again, insisting that she tasted foul. Harry had received both snakes from Gaedrian who had joined 'Save the Snake', which was a community of snake-loving witches and wizards who would adopt injured or rare snakes in order to safeguard them. Harry thought the entire thing was humorous, but since he was one of the few members who were not scared of some of the more poisonous magical breeds of snake, he had been receiving a new snake almost monthly. Rinoa was his most recent, and smallest acquired snake to date. And he'd been forced to take her with him because he couldn't convince her to leave Goliath alone and Goliath refused to promise not to devour her in his absence.

"Hiss hiss, Potter," said Zacharias Smith as he and seventh other students, ranging in ages, blocked Harry's way to Remus' rooms. "Always knew you were dark."

"Sod off, Smith," Harry retorted and tried to push his way through the group. Dumbledore had told him that it was best not to use his vampiric gift where others could see it lest the news of his new abilities spread and he attracted yet more attention to himself, so shoving them out of his way with his power, or confuse them long enough to brush past them, or any of those things. Nor could he draw his wand, because they would over-react and get him into further trouble, and then they could make enough of a case to complain to their parents that he was a threat and they, in turn, would go to Albus and make trouble for him.

"So sorry, Potter," Smith said, and one of the older boys shoved Harry backwards. "You couldn't have really thought we'd stand for this, could you? A vampire," he spat the word like the curse it no doubt was to him. "Just because Dumbledore can't see you for what you are doesn't mean we're so blinded." Harry was trying his very best to remain calm because any action he made, regardless of whether it was self-defence or not, would land him in more trouble than his once-peers could do him; but they knew that as well, and they were exploiting it. Added to the entire mess, Harry had to restrain Rinoa, who was anxiously waiting for permission to sink her poisonous fangs into the wrist of the boy who was pressing him against the wall, and choking him simultaneously – though what he hoped to accomplish wasn't clear -- breath, though force of habit for Harry, was not something he needed to survive.

Their taunting continued, they compared him to Voldemort, cursed his name and spoke about how his parents would be ashamed – how they would turn from him in their disgust. They detailed how he should be cursed, should be tortured for his 'freakishness' – and then Harry felt the darkness rise in him.

It was because the term 'freak' meant more to him than any other word in existence. It was laden with memories of abuse, and suddenly Harry was reliving every time any one had every called him that, and against those memories, Harry was powerless to stop his rage. It drown-out everything else until the only playing in his mind were the voices of the Dursleys, and the taunts of the students who now had him cornered, and try as he might to crub his rage – it was a losing battle.

The students realized what was happening a moment too late. Harry's eyes had glazed and then turned a startling shade of tourmaline, and his lips had parted to reveal canines that were elongated every moment. His breath was coming faster and he looked rather terrifying. "Fuck!" shouted one of the older boys. "He's fucking possessed!"

Some of the boys managed to run, but Harry had already clutched tightly to the robes of the boy who had been pinning him, and Zacharias was frozen with fear. The only thing that was keeping Harry from ripping them apart was that tiny fraction of sanity he had managed to hold on to that was insisting he not move a muscle, and so he was as frozen as the two other boys who had remained in the hall.

It was the screams of the retreating students that signalled Severus that something was amiss and sent him rushing from Minerva's office where he had been discussing the next Quidditch match, to the hallway. And it was the distinct scent of terror mixing with rage that sent Remus Lupin rushing from his rooms, and they came upon the scene almost at the same time, and by unspoken understanding, divided the task at hand between the two of them.

Severus stepped forward and ripped the larger boy from Harry's grasp, shoving him backwards and quickly positioning himself between the Raging vampire and the students, trusting Remus to hurry them away and set them right. It was plain to see the struggle that Harry was in, and Severus placed his hands on either side of the boy's head and pressed him further to the wall when the vampire attempted to throw him off.

"Breath, Potter," Severus ordered sternly. "We have no time for these antics. Take a deep breath and let it go."

"They would lock me away," Harry said, and Severus was unnerved by his voice – the soft huskiness of Harry's voice was turned rough and deep by his anger. "They would starve me and beat me and forget about me."

"What?" Severus asked, surprised by the boy's comments. He knew the students were no doubt taunting him, but he did not think his peers would so easily cow Harry.

"Lock me away," Harry whispered, almost to himself. He gasped against Severus, obviously struggling with himself to remain still and calm – and equally wishing to crush those who would treat him thus. "For eleven years – _cowardice_," he spat, and Severus at once understood.

"The Dursleys are gone, Harry," he said. "They are gone, and you are free. Now breathe, child." He repeated his assurances until the dark eyes turned green again, and the sharp fangs retracted, and Harry leaned limply against the wall. "Better?" Severus asked, smirking somewhat.

"How much trouble have I caused?" Harry asked sheepishly.

"The headmaster will settle it," Severus dismissed.

"I just need a moment," Harry said.

If Harry noticed Remus returning to the hallway, sharing an equally grim and concerned look with Severus, he did not show it. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and smiled as if nothing had happened, but both of the other men could see the tenseness in his body. "Lessons?" Harry asked, and Remus knew he was desperate for distraction, and so he gestured for Harry to precede him, and dared to squeeze the youth's shoulder as he walked by. He nodded once to Severus, thankful the man had been there to help contain the situation, then followed his cub into his classroom.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Remus asked.

Harry was seated on one of the student desks and was massaging his temples, but when Remus spoke he looked up and managed a smile. "I'll be fine," he said. Remus knew that, with the scant number of people who interacted well with Harry these days, every one had a specific role. Gaedrian was like Harry's older brother, and was a role model and guide for the young fledge. Ron and Hermione were his only real friends that were his own age, his connection to a world he'd lost once he'd been turned. Even Albus and Minerva, though in no way romantic with each other, became Harry's grandparents. Remus took on the role of replacement parent and godfather – a daunting task perhaps considering the shoes he had to fill – but he looked at Harry as his cub and found it easy to care for him.

It was because he knew about all of these roles that Remus wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and embraced his cub, and Harry gripped at the front of his robes, but did not cry. Out of everyone, with the exception of Gaedrian, Remus was the person who best understood what it meant to be looked-down on, feared and isolated because of something you could not help.

Some time later, they broke apart both feeling more grounded and calmed, withdrew their wands, and began their scheduled Defence lesson.

………………………….

In the Wizarding World, there were innumerable taboos that Harry only learned by stumbling across them, otherwise he would not have heard a whisper about it. In his first year, he had learned that being sorted into Slytherin was a social stigma in 'good' wizarding society. When the Sorting Hat had endeavoured to place him there, Harry had begun to question whether or not he was actually a dark wizard. The Parseltongue in the second year was yet another thing that made him wonder this. The majority of Wizarding society saw parselmouths as evil – Dumbledore's placations, that he had made _a choice_ not to be in Slytherin (and thus possibly go bad) and his parseltongue 'gift' was not genetic but a result of the curse did not alleviate Harry's concerns. It was only a small matter of philosophical reasoning to establish that platitudes were all Albus was giving him. He only discovered more darkness within himself as the years progressed – learning that he could feel strong enough about something to wish kill it, as he had once wanted to kill Sirius when he had thought him responsible for the deaths of Harry's parents; and as he had wanted to kill Bellatrix when Sirius had fallen through the veil.

Increasingly, the thin line that existed in Harry's mind, a product of his reasoning, which kept him on the side of 'good' and 'light', was becoming weaker – and now he was a vampire, a dark beast. What did that do to that line that prevented him from being just like Tom Riddle?

From where he lay on his bed, stroking Isis' head, surrounded by his other snakes, each hissing their contentment and Harry understanding every word, he voiced the one thought that had been niggling in the back of his mind since he had realized what he had become, "Does this mean I'm completely evil?" he wondered. Sympkin reared his head from where it had rested on Harry's thigh and snickered in that way that only a snake could and Harry was suddenly surrounded by snickering serpents who found his moral dilemma and identity crisis amusing.

------------------------

End Chapter Four:

------------------------


	6. Breaking to Pieces

**Title:** _A Technicality In His Sin_

**Author:** Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Five: ** Breaking To Pieces

--------------------------------

_Have you ever thought, when something dreadful happens,_

"_a moment ago things were not like this; let it be _then_, not _now"

_And you try and try to remake _then_, but you know you can't._

_So you try to hold the moment quite still and not let it move on and show itself._

Mary Stewart, 'Nine Coaches Waiting'.

---------------------------------

Even from across the room, vision blurred by the steam rising from the potion he was brewing, Severus noticed that Harry was clutching at the side of the worktable. This was odd enough in itself, since Harry's vampirism had the added effect of making the boy quite graceful and poised, without any sign of the gangly, awkward, clumsy boy he had been. Yet, when added to the hastening breath and the slightly wild-eyed look, Severus felt a growing concern.

Keeping his movements slow, lest he startle the vampire, Severus began to make his way towards the boy before he keeled-over. He was a few moments too late.

The vision struck violently, and Severus was frozen in a moment of horror as Harry's back arched in an impossible angle and sharp nails actually bit into the wood of the table as a raw, animalistic cry of agony echoed off the walls. The cry, more horrible than a banshee wail, chilled Severus' blood, and he had only just managed to force his body into action when Harry lost balance on the chair on which he had been seated and proceeded to topple towards the ground – still firmly in the clutches of the horrible vision.

Severus had never seen Harry in the grip of a vision, but knew the potions required to ease him once they had passed, and seen the youth after enduring one – and what little effect the potions had, in the end. Watching it now happen directly before him was alarming.

Severus knew that there was really nothing he could do besides administer some calming potions once the vision had passed. He knew that, in the clutches of sharp pain and twisted emotions as he was – Harry had very little connection to his own body, but that didn't stop Severus from picking up the writing boy and cradling him in his arms as he vainly attempted to claw his way out of the horrible place he had been taken to.

It seemed to last forever, but Severus knew it was a mere five minutes of tortuous pain and trauma – both witnessed and endured – and finally Harry, spasming every so often, lay relatively still. Severus was able to heft the lean body into his arms and lift the boy off the ground.

There was no appropriate place in the workroom for the boy to rest, and returning Harry to his own rooms would be too long a trip at the moment, so Severus turned instead towards his own rooms where he proceeded to deposit the dark-headed youth onto his bed.

It felt rather odd to be pulling down the blankets, removing the boots that Harry had taken to wearing, and tucking the boy in – especially since the bed Severus was making the young man comfortable in was his own. Still, it needed to be done, and Severus did it, with perhaps a hint of tenderness, but there was no one around to play witness.

Once the blankets were pulled up around the young man's shoulders, Severus stepped back and watched as Harry turned onto his side and pulled the blankets up further, the movement exposing the back of his neck to Severus and causing the man to go rigid with shock.

On the back of Harry's neck there was a dark tattoo of a serpent coiled about a sword. Severus had never seen it before, but knew that Harry's hair likely covered it, or his robes, as it was neither very large, nor very eye-catching, except when it was so clear without errant hairs to cover it, and only pale skin to juxtapose in the dim light.

He stood quite still for a moment, trying to piece it all together, wondering if Harry knew it was there – and if he didn't, if he should be told or not – and why the boy had the marking at all. In the end, it was a pained whimper that jolted Severus into action, collecting the potions needed in a hurry so he could ease at least some of the young man's pain.

………………………..

Ron and Hermione hesitated only a short moment before pushing past their best friend's sire and making their way into Harry's room. The room had become a snake's den, and even before they neared the bed, they could see that most of the serpents Harry had collected had stationed themselves either on the bed or beside it, like guardians.

What they did not expect to see was Severus Snape standing beside the bed and using the scant light of the fire to inspect whatever lay upon it – no doubt buried under the bodies of snakes.

When they stepped up to the foot of the bed, professor Snape neither looked up from his task, nor acknowledged them in any way, but Gaedrian stood beside them and they shared a dark look.

"Was it really necessary?" Ron asked as they watched the very still form of Harry Potter lying on his four-poster.

Professor Snape finished his examination and turned to them with a faint sneer. "The Dark Lord has been increasingly more active of late. His visions – which I can assure you are far from enjoyable – were increasing in frequency and in severity."

"Albus suggested it," Gaedrian said, his voice surprisingly soft and sombre. "We all agreed. It is easier on him this way."

Hermione said nothing, simply watched her sedated friend sleep. She wondered if life would ever be simple for Harry, and though it pained her, she understood it probably never would be. Any chance of that had been drained from him, along with his life-blood, in a desperate attempt to let him live a few days longer – though 'live' was a term used loosely in her mind.

She had a very difficult time understanding how exactly a vampire became a vampire, and also applying suitable words for things. For instance, Harry breathed and bled – but she wondered if that was necessary for him. Breathing, she thought, didn't seem necessary for him to do, as she had seen him hold his breath for a very long period of time at dinner once when one of the more odorous dishes had him – with his keener vampiric senses –practically retching at the smell. Yet it seemed to be an ingrained habit. She wondered what the point of that could be?

And as far as bleeding went, she supposed that Harry bled borrowed blood. Yet he healed quite quickly, which was a trait she often wondered at. Was it something all vampires did? Healing as quickly as they were hurt? Or was it simply an aspect of Harry's gift? She never asked her friend these things, because she thought it would seem rather rude; but it irritated her not to know, because these were all knew aspects of Harry now, and silly though the notion might be, she wanted to share as much as she could with her friend.

For once, she could not fall back on books to help her, she had only her keen sense of observation, and her developed ability to infer – neither of which were as satisfying as finding the facts in books, but it was better than nothing.

"We should let him rest," Gaedrian said, though he sounded reluctant to leave.

"He sleeps through anything anyway, and now you've got him drugged, I bet we scream our heads off right in his ear and he wouldn't even flinch," Ron offered.

"That may be, Mr. Weasley," professor Snape interrupted. "But no one here, with the possible exception of yourself, has any pressing wish to startle a sleeping vampire."

"Like dragons in that respect, then, are they?" Ron asked, surprised when he realized he was actually joking with his professor – something he knew would certainly have never occurred had Harry not become a vampire, and Snape been one of the few who stood by him in his altered state.

"Quite," Gaedrian said, and puffed himself up a little, and they shared a laugh, except for Severus, who folded his arms across his chest and watched them all as if he was not quite sure they were mentally sound, and then he glanced back towards the bed and drew himself up a bit straighter, and proceeded to sweep from the room, muttering about how they were all blithering idiots – which Ron didn't think was quite fair, but he was too busy laughing to argue.

………………………

On Friday, Harry made his way up the stairs to the large chamber where he had been invited to dine along with the professors. It wasn't the first time he had dined in that room, along with Gaedrian and he didn't so much mind that he never actually 'dined' since he and Gaedrian usually did their 'dining' before-hand, and the food that was offered up at the table was never their sort of meal. It was still enjoyable to sit with his professors and talk with them.

Feeling a bit groggy, since he had only a few hours ago been allowed to wake (the sedation having been allowed to wear off so that he could feed), he made his way into the room, and had already said his greetings and seated himself before he realized that Ron and Hermione were seated at the table as well.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked.

"That's a fine welcome," Ron huffed.

"We were invited," Hermione preened.

"Oh," Harry answered.

"I thought, since you have been indisposed for so long, you might enjoy some time with your friends before you went back under," Gaedrian offered in a whisper.

"Thanks," Harry answered, and then, "Wait, I have to be sedated again?"

"We will talk later. The Dark Lord has made his presence known, even that idiot Minister can no longer ignore it, and we are of the belief that his attacks – while they likely will not diminish in their violent nature – will at least occur a little less frequently. Perhaps you may even be able to catch a breath between visions."

"That would be welcome," Harry said with a pained smile. The decision to sedate him had been made after he suffered five consecutive visions and had to be sent to the hospital wing to heal his vocal chords as well as his aching body. Then he had promptly suffered another vision. "You think Voldemort was just pushing to be acknowledged."

"It would appear so. But as I said, let's speak on this later," Gaedrian patted Harry's shoulder and they shared a smile, both happy to have a few vision-free moments in which Harry was actually awake and functional.

"Oh, Potter," Sol Mantic, the school's new Defence professor said, catching the attention of most of the occupants of the table. "This is in my place, but distinctly has your name on it." Sol was sitting to the right of Albus Dumbledore and was holding up a small wrapped package –complete with a green ribbon. "Pass it down," Sol said.

Harry watched the package make its way down the table with amusement that slowly turned to trepidation – and then to panic. He didn't know what the package contained, but he knew the smell of blood better than anything.

Gaedrian noticed the change in his fledge moments before Severus did. While Gaedrian turned to Harry who was by that point quite pale, with his nails biting into the wood of the table, panting and unable to take his eyes from the package that had just reached Ron. "Harry, what is it?" he asked, trying to gain the attention of his fledge.

Ron looked up, the rest of the table only then realizing that something was wrong. Seeing his friend's expression, Ron looked down at the package. "There's a note," he said as he tugged the small card off of the package.

"Mr. Weasley," Severus warned, but Ron squinted at the untidy scrawl.

"Mr. Potter," Ron read aloud. "Welcome to the dark side' … what bloody rubbish," Ron began muttering.

"Harry," Gaedrian whispered and Harry turned bewildered eyes to his sire.

"Can't you smell it?" Harry asked.

"Smell?" But Gaedrian sniffed the air. He had been preoccupied with Harry to register it, but now he could smell it quite clearly. Turning back towards Ron he noticed the red-head was already pulling off the ribbon. "Do not open that box," Gaedrian said.

"Mr. Weasley!" Severus said, rising from his chair and reaching across the table to snatch the package from Ron but his motion was halted as the lid was removed from the package.

"Bloody hell!" Ron cried, and much to the table's dismay, pulled up the small carcass of a rat by the tail. The rat had a silver paw. "Blimey, it's Pettigrew!"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted in dismay, and only then did Ron look-up from his stunned stupor and turn his eyes, first to Hermione, and then beyond her to Harry.

Harry, who had risen from the table; whose fangs could clearly be seen, whose eyes were glazed and whose body was heaving with the heavy intakes of breath. Gaedrian was holding him back as he clearly struggled to break free of the restraining grip.

"Merlin! He's a wild animal!" Sol cried, leaping back from the table.

"He's Raging! You imbecile," Severus said as he moved quickly around the table to help Gaedrian.

"We have to get him out of here," Gaedrian said as Severus took hold of Harry as well. "Come long, little one," Gaedrian said in a hushed voice. Harry snarled jerked forward, ready to sink his teeth into something. "Breath, my fledge," Gaedrian continued, as he and Severus wrangled the struggling vampire from the room. Severus closed the door behind them as Gaedrian forcibly jerked Harry further down the hall. "We'll take him to the infirmary," Gaedrian said when Severus returned.

Inside the room which the two vampires and the potions master had just fled, Minerva McGonagall turned on Sol who was still standing stunned – staring a the place where the Raging Harry had just been. "Did you have something to do with this?" she asked.

"Minerva!" he cried. "How could you possibly think that I –"

"You were the one who offered him the package, Pomona Sprout said.

"I simply saw it sitting there by my plate. I picked it up, thinking it was sent from my Lydia, but it was clearly addressed to Harry, and so I passed it on," Sol defended.

"It was clearly from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" declared Sinistra. "How could a highly trained Defence professor not have realized this?"

"There was no magic on it!" Sol cried. "A spell wasn't even used for the paper!"

"He is right," Minerva spoke up from where she had moved to analyze the package. "Albus?" she asked, confused and lost as the headmaster moved to peer at the package as well.

"Send the body to the Ministry. At least Sirius Black may be clear posthumously."

"That will hardly help Harry," Minerva said. "The note …"

"I am well aware of each of the several messages Voldemort was sending to young Mr. Potter with this gift. There is nothing I can do for it, however, save that he has a chance to calm down and is surrounded by understand people." He turned away from the package and looked sharply at Sol. "The events of this evening will not affect your willingness to tutor Mr. Potter?"

Sol drew himself upright and sniffed. "I've never seen a Raging vampire, and seeing one doesn't inspire feelings of safety. I was rattled, but I stand by what I've said."

"Then I think it best that we each retire," Albus said, and the others nodded.

………………………..

There were ten of them; she counted from her hiding place by the entrance to the castle. Ten, and likely others lurking out there. She did not know why they had come, but she knew that they did not belong and could think of nothing to do, other than alert her master.

Turning hastily, Rinoa made her way through the long halls of Hogwarts. She knew – because she had been elected by the group to find him – that Harry had not yet returned to his rooms because he had been taken to the infirmary, and she made her way in that direction.

When she was two corners away from the Hospital wing, however, she caught sight of two cloaked figures carrying her master from the sanctuary of the infirmary. They came towards her, their pace fast for men burdened as they were, and she reared up, intending to sink her teeth into the calf of one of them. Yet as they neared, she was forced to slither away or be crushed.

She hissed angrily, and then hissed loader trying to wake her master, but he did not stir. Frightened and unsure how to proceed, Rinoa began to slither back to her master's rooms intent on rousing the other to help. As she turned, she felt herself scooped up, but before she could strike she recognized the scent of her master's sire.

"What are you doing out here?" Gaedrian asked, stroking her head. She had only ever seen the man stroke her and wondered if it was the fact that she was so much smaller than the others that made him fear her less. "Looking for Harry?"

She thrashed and hissed and told him everything that she had seen, and explained that she was on her way to call the others, but Gaedrian interrupted her. "This is no place for you to be slithering about. Someone could step on you, and I don't want you biting the students. I'll put you back where you belong. He should really keep better track of his snakes," he muttered.

Rinoa ceased her struggles when she realized that, even if the man hadn't understood, and even if his intentions were different from hers, at least he was taking her where she had already been heading, and they were making better time. She amused herself by explaining to the man that her master let them wander free, provided they promised not to bite anyone, unless they were certain they were very bad and causing serious trouble.

Gaedrian didn't react to her story, merely muttered the password when they came to the portrait, and place her on the ground in her master's chambers, ordering her to 'stay put'.

She began explaining the situation before the door was even closed behind the man. And it was barely a moment before the others were following her out their secret entrance, determined to protect what was theirs.

……………………….

Severus had brewed the sedation potion himself; it was potent, because he had taken into account Harry's vampiric strength, and it was well-made; it could not, however, suppress Harry's vampiric nature entirely.

There were no signs that the state of the lean body held in the Death Eater's arms had changed. The body remained limp and relaxed and the eyelids of the youth had not so much as flickered. So there was absolutely no warning to allow any of the three Death Eater's who were hauling Harry's body passed the lake, in the direction of the Dark Forest. Instead, the man in whose arms Harry lay was proceeding quickly towards their intended rendezvous with the other Death Eaters – and the next he was quite solidly knocked out.

His two companions faired only a little better. A vampire – besides being quite graceful – is also quite quick. Harry Potter might had been suffering from the events of the earlier evening, he might had been tired and hungry and overwhelmed – he was not, however, either weak or feeble.

Free of the Death Eater's arms, Harry wasted no time in landing a solid punch and breaking the other man's nose before turning his attentions to the third. Harry was not thinking quite clearly because he had yet to recover from the shock of Voldemort's gift. He was reacting on a basic instinct – just shy of slipping into a Rage. His senses were already flaring and he knew exactly what he needed.

Not even one full second after knocking out the man who had held him, and punching the other, Harry reached out and grabbed the third man about the neck and dragged him forward, sinking his sharpened fangs into the bared throat.

He observed idly the panicked reaction of the man whose nose he had broken. Watched him squawk and scramble away, running in an awkward, ungainly way in the direction of the forest, limbs moving so fast that he was sliding on grass and tripping over his own feet. Mostly, Harry was concentrating on taking what he needed, he wasn't thinking about curbing pain of the Death Eater whom he gripped solidly, whose arms flapped against his chest in a weak attempt to bat him away.

When he was finished, Harry took in a slow breath and let the Death Eater sink to the ground. He had passed out, but was still alive – Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, but it wasn't in his nature to kill. Stepping away from the two fallen bodies, Harry took off after his third would-be captor. He had no doubt that there were more Death Eaters on the school grounds, and he would not allow Voldemort to waltz freely about the school – he'd done that enough times already.

…………………..

Severus did his best to follow Gaedrian, but the man was a vampire and healthy or not, there was no way he could keep up with him. He trailed several paces behind the man, doing his best to keep an eye where the vampire was heading.

They'd passed two crumpled bodies clothed in dark robes and Severus had a moment of relief, knowing that Harry had at least broken free of his captors. Wherever the boy was, surely he was there on his own terms, now?

"Harry!" Gaedrian's panicked yell startled Severus from his thoughts and he scanned frantically to see if he could spot any sign of the youth.

"What is it?" he asked, slightly out of breath, and feeling rather lost when Gaedrian gained a burst of speed and pelted towards the woods.

"It's a trap! There are over sixty of them!" Gaedrian's words floated back over his shoulder, and Severus cursed but knew enough to send up the red balls of light to signal an emergency. He could hear the sounds of Hogwarts rousing herself and her staff bursting forth onto the grounds to aid even before he followed Gaedrian into the thick of the woods.

…………………..

Gaedrian's count was inaccurate. There were far more than sixty Death Eaters in the woods, but Harry wasn't going to stop and count them. He pressed his body close to the branch he was crouched on and surveyed the cloaked figures beneath him.

In his Rage, he had not considered the fact that Voldemort had anticipated the fact that three men could not take down a vampire – even if the vampire was a comatose fledge. Harry was wounded, but not severely – at least he had taken out some of the Death Eaters. He'd sought refuge in a tree so as to spy on the remaining cloaked figures, and he had calmed considerably, managing to control his Rage.

From where he was perched he could make out the shadows of Gaedrian – hiding in a position quite similar to Harry's – up in a tree several feet away. Below him, crouched behind the bushes, Harry could see Severus. In the distance, he could even hear the other professors and even the headmaster rushing across the grounds to reach the forest. Reinforcements were on the way.

Seeing an opportunity as the dark figures below shifted, forming ranks and searching the woods for any sign of where he'd disappeared to, Harry twisted his body so that he rolled off the tree branch and landed silently in a crouch at the base of the tree. A few wandless spells and he'd taken out five more, bounding across the small clearing and leaping into another tree before the spells cast by the fallen men's comrades even struck the earth.

"He's here!" a female voice shrieked, and the cloaked figures converged on the small clearing. "It's Potter!" she yelled as her fellows joined her.

"Fast little bugger," a man muttered. From his perch in the tree, Harry smirked. He turned his head and met Gaedrian's amused look. Gaedrian shifted seamlessly, climbing down the branches to crouch closer to the ground. Just below him, one of the Death Eaters was shifting from foot to foot, gazing out into the dark forest.

"I don't like this," the twitchy man said.

"Quiet you fool!" an authoritative voice, that Harry thought sounded a bit like Lucius Malfoy, ordered. "We stay with the plans." Harry bit his lip as he watched Gaedrian reach his hand forward a bit so it hovered over the pointy hood of the Death Eater that stood beneath his tree. It took the barest effort of wandless magic, and the man was lifted upward a few feet off the ground.

"Help!" the man shrieked, his voice piercing the chill night air. "Oh sweet Merlin!" The Death Eaters turned as one to see the twitchy man hovering off the ground with no visible spell caster in the clearing.

"It's Potter!" one of the men cried. "Find him!"

Harry shook his head as Gaedrian smirked and twitched his finger back and forth casually, as if enjoying a faint melody – the result was the body of the Death Eater he was currently suspending jerked back and forth like a rag doll. "Let me down! Oh please!" the man sobbed.

Lumos spells lit the clearing and though the hooded figures searched and squinted, their eyes could not spot the vampire crouch on the branch above the man he was suspending. They did, however, get remarkably close to where Severus was hiding.

Harry turned back to his sire and their eyes met, silent communication that they had perfected allowing them to agree, and then Gaedrian began shimmying the Death Eater in quite a ridiculous fashion – walking him like a fish on a line around the clearing and generally causing enough of a distraction for Harry to dart across the clearing and lead the Slytherin head of house away from the clearing.

"They're heading toward the gates," Harry whispered as he raced out of the Forbidden Forest, Severus a few steps behind him. "They had to cross the wards to get free, and there's no way out through the forest, it has to be passed the gates. We need to alert the staff."

"They're on their way," Severus informed Harry needlessly.

"Sir!" Harry yelled, because they'd run into Albus and some of the staff. "They are heading towards the gates!"

Albus nodded and gestured for the staff to head that way. When Harry moved to follow, Albus placed a hand on his arm. "You will return to the school now, Harry."

"Gaedrian is out there," Harry argued.

"He will be fine," Albus assured.

"I'm not leaving him," Harry said, and his tone was such that even Albus Dumbledore did not consider arguing. With a last look of concern, Albus accepted the vampire's decision and turned to hurry towards the gates.

"You are bleeding," Severus surveyed casually as they both made their way in the direction of Hogwart's Gates.

"Not all the blood is mine," Harry said darkly. Severus did not press the young fledge.

…………………

Severus paused a moment as he came upon the gates. Chasing after the two vampires had tired him, but not extensively so. Still, the sight he came upon brought forth numerous bad memories that he had thought put behind him.

The staff of Hogwarts was greatly outnumbered by Death Eaters, and spells were flashing back and forth, illuminating the wide road with bursts of coloured lightning. He could make out two blurred smudges of dark that he knew to be Gaedrian and Harry. Every now and then a Death Eater would inexplicably fall to the ground, and Severus knew one of the two vampires had cast a wandless spell.

A brief pause was all he allowed himself before entering the melee. It was surprisingly simple to slip into that place that had kept him alive in the past – long nights of Death Eater meetings, battles similar to this one – only now he could freely curse those he wished to. One spell flashing close by his ear – so lose he could hear the magic hiss as it missed him. Severus' mind emptied of all thoughts. The battleground became simple, clear, each figure a chess piece on a board, each curse a different strategy.

He ducked and ran and cast spells, never falling stopping to think that the last spell – had it been green? – had passed too close; never fully registering the curses he sent back at the masked men. He would jump over crumpled bodies, strike out at masked figures who stood too close to curse. It was all a blur, it was surreal – until he heard the cream rend the air.

All movement ceased as Severus jerked his head towards the source of the pained scream, the agony and pain sounding out clearly in the night. Behind him, he felt a body press close beside him and did not even register that it might be a foe, but then Albus was pressing something into his hand and giving an order. He had to repeat it before he could think clearly. "Severus!" Albus shouted. "Get him out of here!"

Then Severus moved on autopilot, not registering anything, just running to the source of the pained scream. He reached Harry's side and spared only a brief glance to the spill of blue robes that separated the young fledge from masked figure. He grabbed Harry from behind, holding on tightly as the vampire screamed and struggling, thrashed wildly like a captured beast and snarled and hissed and cried. He only just managed to activate the portkey that the headmaster had slipped to him, not caring where it depostited them, so long as it was away, away, away, from the reality.

The body in his arms jerked roughly and Severus was knocked away, his back knocking into the leg of a chair – they had been deposited in the headmaster's office. Safe and away. But that didn't mean that it hadn't happened.

"Harry," Severus tried softly, out of breath from the battle.

"He's dead!" Harry moaned, broken and small – a child's voice – a lost, pitiful groan filled with pain and sorrow. "He's dead, he's dead." And he was crying, and Severus couldn't move. Couldn't bring himself to get closer to the fledge, half afraid that Harry was so lost in pain and sorrow that he would forget the scent and feel of his potions' master and strike out in Rage. Paralysed by the adrenaline that was wearing off, by the shock that was sinking in. "He's dead." It was a broken sob now, and Severus found he could move. He pulled the shaking shivering body into his arms and rocked the boy as he had done once before, in a graveyard on a cool night.

"Yes, Harry," Severus whispered. "Gaedrian is dead."

---------------------------

End Chapter Five:

---------------------------


	7. Never is a Promise

**Title:** _A Technicality In His Sins_

**Author:** Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Six: **Never is a Promise

-----------------------------

_Desperate ills need desperate remedies._

Agatha Christie, 'The Mystery of the Blue Train'

-----------------------------

He waited until midnight before walking the now familiar route through the dungeon hallways, stopping at the painting of the path and the cat. He knocked on the edge of the frame, bargained with the black cat that watched him with only vague interest from the corner of the road in the painting, and called several times to the room's occupant. In the end, Severus -- as was becoming usual -- returned to his chambers and sat by the fire, nursing a glass of whisky and trying to think of something he could do to help.

Just like the nights preceding this one, Severus fell asleep in the wingback chair in front of the fire, clutching an empty whisky glass, ensconced in a dark melancholy that came from not knowing how to help the young abandoned fledge.

………………

Sol Mantic sat on the coffee table in the headmaster's office ignoring the disapproving looks from his colleagues. Really, there were no other chairs for him, and he was tired after a long day of classes, followed by marking and several detentions. He really didn't feel like 'drawing a chair', though he suspected his colleagues might have preferred him to do so.

"He has not been to any of his classes," Remus said, recalling the few looks that had skittered Sol's way.

"He's grieving," Pomona Sprout justified.

"It is one thing to grieve – but he's locked himself away," Minerva countered. "I could not break through the wards that have been put up around his rooms. He is isolating himself."

"I am concerned for young Harry," Albus agreed.

"Short of appealing to the castle to allow us entry into those chambers, I cannot see how we can reach him," Pomona said.

"Perhaps he just needs some time," Sol offered. "The bond between a fledge and his sire is a great one. For a fledge to lose his sire so early – especially given how isolated Potter's been since the beginning of year –"

"Which is exactly why he _shouldn't_ be allowed to brood as he is," Minerva said.

"So, _if_ you managed to break-down his considerable wards, you're saying you _want_ to go barging into a distraught fledge's lair? He'll be Raging! And that will be the least of your troubles!" Sol huffed.

"Silence," Albus said, and was immediately granted his wish. "For now, I think that professor Mantic is correct. Harry simply needs some time."

"It's been nearly four weeks," Remus Lupin spoke from where he was seated, on the outskirts of the group, his worry eating at him little by little.

"I do not wish to pressure him," Albus said in a defeated sigh. "I do not wish to push him away."

The rest of the staff eventually agreed to allow Harry more time. Severus remained silent throughout the meeting. "Very well," Minerva said when most everyone was agreed. "But I think this is a mistake." Severus thought bitterly that it certainly wouldn't be the first one.

…………………….

Draco Malfoy eyed his potion's master and Head of House critically as he put away his supplies. He had, since the start of term, been allowed to make use of the potions lab after dinner for extra work. Draco found brewing potions to be restful, and it also cleared his mind. He had been making use of his Head of House's offer almost every night since Snape had told him.

Snape was looking quite exhausted and not at all well, but Draco did not know the reason for it. He had heard in a letter from his father, that a vampire – Harry Potter's own sire – had been killed in an attack at the school several weeks ago. As far as Draco knew however, that was no reason for professor Snape to look as he did.

A soft hissing filled the room as Draco put away the sylfloan root that he had not used and when he turned from the cabinet to inform his Head of House that he had finished for the night, Severus was staring down at an oddly colored snake on his desk with a surprised look.

"Sir, I'm finished," Draco repeated when Snape didn't react to him the first time.

"Yes of course," Severus said distractedly. "Good-night, Mr. Malfoy."

"Sir," Draco said as he nodded and turned. Before he closed the door he looked back where snake and man were still eyeing each other. Draco shook his head, convinced he would never understand the Head of Slytherin, and closed the door, heading back to his dorms.

……………………..

Severus knew the snake that was on his desk. Fais was a mostly black snake with purple striping whom, when light hit him just so, appeared darkly blue or green. He had seen the serpent before – this one, one of several of the magical snakes Harry owned – was quite fond of twining itself around his young master's neck, and also took a liking to creeping up the pant legs of any visitors that came to Harry's room in order to startle them. Seeing the blasted serpent on his desk was certainly unexpected, especially since Severus had not seen a single one of Harry's snakes since Harry himself had retreated to his rooms.

Fais was hissing quite emphatically and bobbing his head from side to side. If Severus spoke Parseltongue he would likely be getting quite an earful. As it was, he stared quite stupidly down at the serpent and actually found himself asking, "Is it Harry? Is he alright?" But Fais could not answer that question – or he could, but it was just a bunch of hissing and bobbing.

Finally, the snake slithered off the end of the desk and dropped on the floor. Still hissing, though it had ceased bobbing now, it moved towards the door that Malfoy had just retreated from. "You want me to follow?" Severus asked. More hissing, so he followed the snake.

He followed the snake all the way to the familiar painting. "I know," Severus huffed. "But I can't get through the door, it's warded." Fais seemed quite frustrated with him and slithered up his leg until his considerable body was wrapped entirely along Severus' right arm. Fais proceeded to tighten and loosen his body until Severus was very certain that the thing wanted him to use his arm for something.

When the snake had shifted his body from his arm to his shoulders, Severus thoughtfully pulled up his sleeve and looked at the tattoo Gaedrian had left on his skin. Was it some sort of key? If so, how did he work it?

He had only a few moments to wonder before Fais launched forward with a startling hiss and sunk his fangs into the head of the inked serpent of Severus' arm.

It burned – hotter than the dark mark – but oddly the pain did not feel as sharp. After a moment, Fais yanked his fangs free and dropped down to the floor where he disappeared through the small gap in the stone that Harry had created for his snakes to come and go as they pleased.

Severus stood gasping as his head spun. Slowly, however, his vision was clearing and the ache in his arm lessened until he felt nothing strange at all. He looked back towards the portrait hesitantly, unsure how to proceed. "Harry?" he called, and knocked on the frame. Nothing happened. He was surprised, because he had actually expected something would. "Potter, what are you doing in there?" he sighed to himself.

He pressed his hand against the canvas of the painting and felt a tingling in his palm that ran up the length of his arm. When he stepped back the cat in the painting was looking at him with its head tilted to one side, as if listening. "I need to get inside," Severus spoke to the cat. "It is very important." The cat paced back-and-forth along the path and then sat down again, one paw scraping at the dirt before it looked back at him, his head cocked to the side.

"I refuse to perform for you like a monkey. If you decide you will allow me entry then do so, if not, stop wasting my time!" Severus snapped at the cat. The cat mewed at him, a long yowl of a cry, and then turned around and presented Severus with its backside.

But the painting clicked open just the same.

It was the hitching gasp that caught his attention. He could hear it quite distinctly above the hissing of the panicked snakes in the room. Severus let the portrait close behind him and he stepped carefully, aware of the twisting twining bodies of the serpents that cluttered the floor. He moved quickly into the dimly lit room, only to be frozen by the vision that confronted him.

"Ssseverusss," Harry spoke in a near hiss. "Sssseveruss, pleasssse."

The young fledge lay on the bed. He was clothed in soft black pajamas; the shirt had become partially unbuttoned and had fallen open, exposing pale skin and a brown nipple. Harry was arching up in bed, his bare feet visible where they had kicked off the blanket. His hands grasped at something he could not reach, stretching up above his head as he writhed, slow as a serpent. He moaned – a sound that was ripped out of the boy, soaked with wanting – it hit Severus like a hex. He was frozen in place with the extent of his lust.

Severus knew what was happening. He knew these effects, knew what it meant, what had to be done. It made him ache for the boy on the bed, knowing how much pain Harry must have been suffering to get to this point. "Ssssev," Harry gasped, his hips rising from the bed, exposing more pale flesh as the movement caused the shirt to slip further off Harry's slim body.

Severus shook himself from his trance. "I'm here, Harry. Hush," he said, and he climbed on to the bed beside the boy, leaning over the young vampire, bracing the boy's head in one hand and bringing it close to the wrist of his other arm. "I'm here now," Severus said. "Easy, easy," he coaxed, as Harry's lips parted and the fledge whimpered piteously.

It was not like Severus had imagined it might be. He knew books on the subject were biased but he had always been hard-pressed to imagine how a vampire's bite could be pleasurable. It was, though. Oh, sweet Merlin it was. Severus found his eyes falling closed as Harry's fangs bit into his wrist. His mouth dropped open and he couldn't quite breathe as he felt Harry drink. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. More intimate than any of the sex he had enjoyed before. "That's it," Severus soothed, trying to control his startling reaction. "Easy now, there you are." It brought him to a high he had never quite imagined, but just when he thought he might be swallowed up by the pleasure, overwhelmed and lost in it – Harry pulled back.

"Severus," Harry whispered, and Severus sat back enough to see the young vampire pass into sleep. For a moment, Severus thought he might have been too late and Harry had slipped away despite his effort, but Harry had color in his cheeks once more, and that meant Harry was still with him.

"What are we to do with you?" Severus asked. He rubbed his brow and couldn't quite find the strength to move. With a defeated sigh, he dropped his head to Harry's breastbone. "What am I to do?"

……………………..

Harry was aware first of warmth all around him, and in him. He could feel arms around his back and the chest he was resting his cheek against, and could smell the soothing scent of sandalwood and smoke. When he opened his eyes, he was not surprised to see Severus Snape lying there but he felt sleep-dulled, with a strange sense of closeness to the man who held him, and that caused him some concern.

"You are awake," Severus pointed out.

"What happened?" Harry asked, shifting up a bit so he could rub at his eyes. "I don't remember anything."

"Don't you?" Severus drawled. "Not warding your rooms so that even your snakes were hard-pressed to leave your chambers? Not starving yourself?"

"What?" Harry said.

"You did all those things," Severus continued. "And are lucky that I was able to find my way in despite the trouble you went to in order to prevent that."

"I feel fine," Harry said, somewhat hesitantly.

"If you are wondering why you are not comatose –" Severus trailed off and looked away.

"Did you?" Harry asked.

"There were not many options available at that point, I apologize," Severus said.

"You apologize?" Harry questioned. "Why?"

"For whatever aspect of the news has you so distraught."

"No part," Harry said. "Except that you didn't have a choice in it. I should be sorry for that. For putting you in a position where you felt you didn't –"

"Stop it," Severus ordered, he shoved Harry further off his body and rose from the bed. "It was not unpleasant in any way and I have recovered. You seem to be fully with us, a step up, I'm sure. What concerns me is keeping you that way."

"I won't do it again," Harry said. "I'll take better care of myself."

"You are a Fledge. They are notorious for being unable to look after themselves. No," Severus continued. He was pacing, his teaching robes billowing behind him as he walked and the serpents that still littered the floor darting so as to avoid being trod underfoot. "You will take up joining us for nightly meals in the hall, and will continue with your lessons. If you fail to arrive at the appropriate time, we shall know there is a problem. It is very close to sunrise, and I have lessons to arrange. Good evening." He bowed slightly and turned on his heel.

"Severus!" Harry called, still too groggy to move at all quickly, but he scrambled to the edge of the bed. Severus halted his progress and turned slightly. "I'm sorry."

"You have done nothing wrong, Harry," Severus said, his voice softer, but then he continued on his way, and Harry heard his door shut behind the man.

……………

Remus Lupin was not a fool. He trusted Albus Dumbledore, but he would he lying if he said that following Albus' last order had been easy. The wolf in Remus knew all too well the pain that Harry was experiencing. Losing a member of the pack was very hard, but Harry was a member of Remus' pack and Albus was asking him to step aside and leave the young fledge to grieve.

Things were different though, since Harry had emerged from his self-imposed solitude, and Remus was not idiot enough to miss what was really happening. From the head table in the Great Hall, Remus watched the young man sip at a goblet and feign interest in his friends' chatter.

"Blood serum?" Remus asked softly of the dour man sitting on his left.

"Naturally," Severus replied.

"Was he doing so poorly?" Remus asked.

"Worse," Severus answered. "But he is, as you can see, improving."

"Dobby is your accomplice, no doubt," Remus mused.

"He was most willing to assist Harry Potter, and seemed to know I was serious when I advised him caution."

"Isn't Harry hunting?" Remus asked.

"No, and I thought it cruel to coral him into it. But he cannot resist the smell if it is presented to him, and so I take every opportunity to make sure that it is."

"I don't know if bringing him to the hall for dinners was a wise idea," Remus said. Half the student population looked as if they wanted to leap over the tables and rip Harry apart, and the other half looked as if they'd rather be running screaming. It was the same every night. Gaedrian's presence had offered Harry a certain amount of security. Now, with the older vampire gone and his protection no longer existing, many of the students did not think twice about harassing Harry.

"There was no other solution, since the idiot boy no longer trusts the professors' private dining room," Severus said.

"And who's to blame him, after the stunt You-Know-Who pulled the last time he dined there. Not to mention memories of Gaedrian," Remus said.

"Precisely why I did not argue and simply ordered him here," Severus said.

"I don't know what I should do," Remus sighed.

"Must something be done?" Severus asked. "You take him for his Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching, you speak with him nightly. You make every effort to be available for him, and he appreciates that. But grief is a very private business, Lupin. You of all people should know."

"There's too much that's wrong," Remus said.

"And you cannot possibly make it right," Severus said. He excused himself and rose from his chair, and left Remus to wonder when the quiet head of Slytherin House had taken to giving advice to Gryffindors.

………………..

"Are you sure that these are his rooms?" the Slytherin whispered, and Zacharias nodded with absolute certainty.

"Come on," he ordered. "We can't loiter around or people will get suspicious."

"What people?" Sean asked, he was a close friend of Zacharias and from the same house. "Everyone's still in class, and the only professor who teaches on this floor is Snape, and he's lecturing sixth years."

"Well, hurry up any way," Zacharias ordered. "I'm not getting caught because you were making eyes at a cat in a painting," he said, smacking one of the Slytherin boys in the head, he had been teasing the cat in the painting.

"How come it's not locked or anything?" one of the others wondered.

"Potter went mental after that other vampire died, and the professors have been keeping an eye on him," Zacharias explained. They pushed through the entrance into Harry's room to find the floor writhing with snakes.

"What the hell?" Sean whispered.

"Shut up and work fast," Zacharias ordered, pulling his wand from his robe.

……………………

Draco could have heard the screams from the Slytherin dormitory, he was certain. As it was, he was walking through the halls of the dungeons using his free period to clear his head before tackling his arithmancy essay. He would know Potter's voice anywhere, and if in the past they had been rivals, Draco was unnerved by the agony in the voice, and didn't for a moment stop to entertain the notion of simply ignoring the other boy's distress.

Draco was tall and he covered the ground quickly, stopping by the portrait of the black cat on the path that Draco knew from overhearing Snape and Lupin talking, led to Harry's rooms. The screams were louder, but when Draco tried to push passed the portrait, he was brought to an immediate halt. "This is not a time to be warding your damn door, Potter!" Draco cursed under his breath, drawing his wand to ascertain the spells.

The wards didn't belong to Harry. There were seven difference magical signatures, none of them of Potter's power or a professor's skill, but seven different wards was too many for Draco to break. He had no idea where to begin. "Shit, shit," Draco cursed as the screams continued, broken by sobs and muffled whimpers. "Holy shit!" Draco cursed when a fat snake slithered out from hidden spot in the wall. Another snake dropped out after it. He wracked his brain for a spell to cast to break the wards, but five spells later, he wasn't making any progress.

"Snape!" Draco said, and took off in a mad sprint to find his Head of House. It didn't occur to Draco that he should likely knock on the door, that Severus Snape was in the middle of a class and not only was it poor manners to barge in, but it was also dangerous depending on what potion was being brewed. He burst threw the door, startling all the students who had previously been bent over their desks taking notes, but before Snape could bite-off a stinging comment, Draco shared his news. "Potter's in trouble!"

"The class is dismissed for the day, pack up your things and get out!" Snape drawled, already striding purposefully to the door. "Come with me," he said, taking Draco by the arm and turning him around.

"I was on my way to the library," Draco explained as he and his head of house rushed through the halls. "I heard screaming, and I could tell it was Potter. I followed the sound and found his room, but when I tried to go in, it was warded."

"Damn the boy," Severus cursed to himself.

"Sir, I don't think they're Potter's wards. There were seven different magical signatures, but I couldn't break-through them." They arrived at the painting of the cat, and Severus drew his wand.

"Seven students," Severus said, then began casting spells quietly under his breath and flicking his wand. The wards were all down in a matter of moments, and Severus pushed open the door.

Draco paused, realizing that the snakes that he had originally seen coming from the room had followed him, and were in the process of slithering back inside. "Draco!" Severus called, and Draco stepped into the room.

Draco had never seen the other rooms in the dungeons before. Most were locked, some warded, most all of them were guarded by uncooperative paintings. Of the few rooms he had seen, none of them were equipped with windows. It took a moment for him to realize that the windows were spelled into place, and that they were leaking sunlight onto the bed where Harry Potter had been sleeping. The screams were Harry's as the young fledge had awoken to find himself tied and spelled to the bed, and the sun rising in the sky – the light creeping up the bed on which he could not move from.

Severus had placed himself between Harry and the light; he'd spread his dark cloak over the vampire and had freed Harry from the spells and bindings that had prevented his movement. As Draco stepped further into the room Severus gestured towards the windows, and Draco quietly set about casting the spells to remove them.

"The light is gone," Severus said quietly, and try as he might, Draco could not bring himself to ignore his professor's voice. He had never heard Severus Snape sound so calming, so caring. Harry Potter lay in the Head of Slytherin's arms, shaking and shivering, and clinging as if his very life depended on it. "Hush now, you are safe." Harry seemed to settle, and Severus turned to face Draco once again. "Fetch three of the blue vials on the third shelf by my bookcase. They are the burn salves, but make certain you take the blue vials. Bring them back here as quickly as you can."

Draco nodded, but Severus had already turned away. Without wasting any time, Draco once again ran through the halls of the dungeons, quickly finding the requested salves and thinking enough to bring a calming draught and an all's well potion, he hurried back.

When Draco presented his Head of House with the retrieved items, Severus did not acknowledge the extra potions, but administered both immediately. When Harry had passed into sleep, Severus ordered Draco to help apply the salve to the burns on Harry's legs and feet.

"Will this actually heal him?" Draco asked quietly.

"I brewed these myself," Severus said, sounding distracted rather than offended. "The sunlight was not very bright nor was it entirely direct. This particular potion was brewed with the vampire physique in mind."

"You've been experimenting?" Draco asked, genuinely curious.

"Not on Potter," Severus snapped. "But yes, I thought given the circumstances, it was prudent to prepare should Potter's vampiric weaknesses be exploited." Draco knew immediately what Snape was talking about. It would stand to reason that the Dark Lord would do anything he could to take advantage of his enemy's weaknesses.

With the salve applied and no other task to distract him, Draco realized he was in a dark room with a vampire, surrounded by snakes the majority of which he could recognize as poisonous. "Uhm," he said, rather ineloquently.

"They are quite safe," Severus said, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Why wouldn't they have attacked the students who did this?" Draco asked, eyeing a particularly large serpent that was wending its way up one of the posts of the four-poster.

"I imagine they did bite," Severus said. "The spells were likely cast close to the door, however, and the perpetrators probably ran as quickly as they could. They certainly had the incentive. I expect to receive a summons from Poppy."

"Do you think it's okay to leave him?" Draco asked, gesturing to the bed on which Potter was sleeping.

"I will set wards on the door, he should be safe until I return," Severus said, rising after resettling Harry on the bed. Severus turned to Draco and gestured him to precede him out the door.

"Will you speak with the headmaster about it?" Draco asked after Severus had settled the wards around the room and secured the painting.

"I will follow the appropriate procedure regarding such incidents, but there is little that can be done. Potter is a vampire and afforded little by way of rights."

"I'd be happy to help you in any way I can," Draco said, stopping Severus who had been about to leave him and head up the stairs to the headmaster and the infirmary.

"I can't imagine to what you are referring," Severus drawled, but he nodded his head slightly and Draco knew that if his Head of House could, he would involve Draco in whatever punishment he had planned for Harry Potter's attackers.

…………….

"Snake bite," Poppy diagnosed, then tsked and shook her head. "I suppose you should administer the cure."

"I should administer it?" Severus asked. Poppy looked distastefully at the four boys who were lying on cots in the infirmary, each suffering from a manner of snakebite, some more severe than others. "Do you, a vaunted medi-witch, have a conflict of interest?" Severus teased.

"Shut up and hand me the antidotes as I call for them, then," Poppy snapped.

"The headmaster is prepared to question each of them regarding their curious afflictions as soon as they are healed," Severus said as he handed over one of the cures for the snakebite.

"I suppose the best he'll get out of them is a promise not to pursue seeking retribution for the snakebites they each received as a result of Potter being unable to control his snakes," she said scornfully. Severus was surprised Poppy felt so strongly on the topic. Granted, he knew that with the amount of time Harry spent in the nurse's care, she had grown fond of the boy, but he had never seen Poppy Pomfrey so animated before.

"Perhaps we can obliviate them," Severus said. Poppy chuckled and shook her head.

"I hope you have some better security around that boy's rooms now," Poppy said, moving to the next cot and the next patient.

"Potter is moving into my rooms," Severus said. "Into the extra room that I have not found a use for."

"Until now, I suppose," Poppy said. "Albus had a hand in that, no doubt." Severus did not say that it had been his suggestion, merely played along and pretended to be quite putout. Poppy knew enough to know that Severus was merely putting on an act. Most of the staff knew that the potions master had grown fond of the young fledge, and most had grown accustomed to bowing to Severus' knowledge on vampire handling, even if Severus did not know that much more than they themselves did.

"If we are done healing, I should return and make certain the wolf hasn't manage to destroy my rooms."

"You left him in charge of settling Harry?" Poppy asked. "My, my, Severus. You've become so trusting." She managed to smother her amused grin at the sneer Severus answered her statement with.

………………….

Unlike the other professors' rooms, Severus Snape's private chambers linked to his personal office, which linked in turn to his classroom and private lab. His rooms were no bigger or smaller than any of the other professors' rooms, but hallways that led to the doors that linked the rooms served to make his space appear much larger.

After leaving Poppy, Severus stopped first at his lab where he returned the unused potions to their locked shelves, and then he set in the direction of his private rooms and more specifically, the extra room he'd previously been using to store books and items that could not fit on his already full shelves. Now the room had morphed into a fine bedroom and housed a young fledge and his harem of serpents some of which Severus tripped over while passing through his sitting area.

"He's settled?" Severus asked as he stepped into the new bedroom and found Remus Lupin sitting on the four-poster watching Harry sleep.

"We sedated him for the trip over, but I don't see how it could have made much of a difference. He was fast asleep anyway," Remus replied, he smoothed the blankets that covered Harry before reluctantly leaving the room.

"Vampires are light sleepers," Severus said.

"He's completely healed," Remus said, ignoring Severus' statement.

"You expected less?" Severus drawled.

"What does Albus intend to do about this?" Remus asked.

"I do not know. He has yet to question the boys who were sent to infirmary for snakebite. No doubt they will reveal the others. Beyond that, I cannot tell how things will be handled, though I do not see much by way of punishment."

"I don't understand how Harry could have let it happen," Remus said.

"You think he wanted to be trapped on his bed as the sun burned him?"

"No. Not for a moment. But he's so fast. And you've said he's a light sleeper. I don't understand how he could have failed to retaliate."

"When you were bitten and realized what you'd become, how easily did you embrace your new condition?" Severus asked. "The most important task a sire has is to smooth their fledge's transition. To teach them how to protect themselves. It is the very reason vampires still flourish despite the fact the entire wizarding world is against them. They are beyond the wizarding world."

"Harry's trapped between worlds. The Wizarding World still needs him," Remus said.

"But they do not want him. And he has been robbed of he person who could have helped him."

"Gaedrian was never the only person working to help Harry," Remus said.

"Yes, you are doing marvellously, Lupin," Severus sneered.

"You too," Remus answered honestly. Severus ignored the statement and shuffled through some papers on his desk. "Thank-you for protecting him, Severus. Harry will be safe here." Remus left quietly, relaxing a little as he felt the powerful wards settle behind him as he closed the door. As he began the walk back to the tower in which his rooms were located, Remus idly scratched at the inked marking on his skin, and considered at what Severus had said about vampires. He wondered if he would ever understand what Gaedrian had meant when he'd given Remus the marking. He wondered if Harry would ever truly be safe in their world.

-------------------------

End Chapter Six:

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